Halo: My Father was a Marine
by Christian Knight
Summary: The Sangheili female was always seen as an odd one. She is mute, she speaks through her hands, draws amazing pictures and values all forms of life. But what shocks her people the most is her story: she was raised by human Marines. (I do not own the image, I'm just borrowing it)
1. A Female

**I had this idea in my head and just wanted to get it out there. I know it looks like I'm splitting hairs at the moment, but I was just too excited to wait, seriously I thought of this yesterday and couldn't get it out of my mind. **

**I do not own Halo, just my OC's; also this is a slight AU since it details a battle on a planet that isn't in the Halo world.**

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**Halo: My Father Was a Marine**

"**You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them."-****Desmond Tutu**

Va'lorn observes the settlement before him with his young, critical eye. It doesn't look that different compared to the other structures within this small fiefdom, but Va'lorn knows for a fact that the person living within is as different as any Sangheili can possible come.

Nobody is really sure where the female came from, when she arrived or even how it is she came to be there. It's as if she just appeared one day and the community just accepted her.

Then people began to notice her when the fief fell into hard times. After Sanghelios left the Covenant, the people were deprived of workers, cooks, builders and engineers, rendering the mighty people to become embarrassingly helpless. For thousands of years they had relied on the work of the lesser species, the Unggoy and Kig Yars for example, both of which were supplied by the Covenant. Now without them and after so many cycles since there has last been a Sangheili farmer or builder, the civilization on the planet had started to crumble. It wasn't just the society that was in shambles, but also the people. Everyone became depressed that their religion, their superiority, everything, was revealed to be nothing more than a lie, a lie that many have believed in for countless cycles. They knew there are jobs to be done, but how can they perform such tasks when everyone, male, female, young and old were trained and only trained to be warriors? The humans, their new allies, had sent advisors to help the people to relearn how to live on their own, which is a long and slow process of change that the still prideful Sangheilis had to endure. However the fief of Mosaliee, or Mosali as it is now called, started to flourish, and it was all because of the female.

Va'lorn remembers the day he and the other younglings of the keep were practicing combat drills on the nearby lake when they noticed something, the odd female's house was still functioning. Curious, their instructor had wandered towards her house to see if she had an engineer, and if so, perhaps they could borrow it. When he returns though, he looked absolutely stun and immediately reported to the Keep lord. Later in the day the rumors started, one that made many people uneasy and slightly afraid; the female had installed her own power supply system.

Many people had watched as the Keep lord went to the female for the first time and when he return, he brought with him strange schematics which he gave to the guards and had ordered them to start building.

The guards were lost though, it wasn't because they didn't understand what the paper said, it was because they didn't know how to use the tools or the mathematics required to install such a device, one that has never been seen before.

The Keep Lord is already humiliated just for asking the female for advice, but he forced himself to go to her once again and asked for her personal assistance. That was when Va'lorn had seen her for the first time. He, as well as everyone else, was shocked beyond belief; the female was a youngling, just shy of becoming a full grown woman.

She looked normal Va'lorn suppose; she had the dark skin, a set of orange colored eyes and was close to becoming seven units tall. However, what set her apart is her confidence, she stood straight and converse with the males without regards to their gender difference. And when she converse she didn't speak, she used her hands and some sort of package of papers, all bounded together. Va'lorn though it was a tablet, until she removed a stylus, open the object and started moving it about the page before showing it to the males.

Bit by bit, with the uneasy movements of a newborn, they created a machine that had everyone baffled, nobody had a clue to what it was or what it could do. The female then help the males with installing the machine, she actually squatted in the dust, staining her robes, yet seemed not to be too troubled by it, and used the tools herself in the finishing process. They then put what looked like glass on the roof of the Keep, connect it to the machine and activated it. Va'lorn was mystified, the Keep's power grid reactivated almost instantly and without the use of an engineer or even a power source.

The female said that the power came from the sun, that this is called "solar energy."

After that day her name became well known, a name that sounded completely foreign to Va'lorn; Bree.

After that everything changed. Bree toured the fief, lending out her unbelievable knowledge to everyone who needed it. She built more solar powered homes, while also introducing wind, water and other natural sources that could be used to generate energy. She even knows a few things about farming and showed people how to do it. She used her beautiful pictures to explain how to use mathematical problems and how to apply them to certain problems experienced in life. She was even able to fix a Specter vehicle, she herself looked shock and later admitted she was merely experimenting, she wasn't actually expecting it to work.

She became a large part of the community afterword. Sangheili elders sought her out for advice, others have suggested that she should be a teacher, while many had elected her to become a personal advisor to the fief's Kaidon and all have begun to hold her in awe.

Yet she displayed more of her peculiarity when she decline, claiming that she isn't that important and surely someone with more experience is better suited for the position. Va'lorn knew for a fact that many Sangheilis would have jumped to obtain such a high social rank, so why didn't this female?

The happy times however came to a close. In the wake of the human alliance Sangheilis, who distrusted the aliens and still believe the people of Sanghelios are the superior race, began forming rebellion fractions and started assaulting the humans. One of the rebels had come to the fief and openly declared that Bree was teaching the people human knowledge and demanded her to tell the truth. She merely nodded her head, confirming that all her teachings had come from the humans, not appearing the least bit ashamed or afraid, which angered the rebel.

Though the people were surprised by this, they really saw nothing wrong, after all the humans are their allies now. But then the threats began to arrive, all proclaiming that Bree would be slain.

Determine to protect the female and her valuable information, the Kaidon of the fief had selected a young warrior and had tasked him with protecting Bree.

That young warrior happens to be Va'lorn.

The young warrior takes one last glance around, confirming the area is clear of any dangers before entering the premises. He opens the gate and walks in but stops. Along the path are flowers, all of which appeared to have been removed and place in the ground. Though they smell splendid to the warrior, he wonders why they are there, what purpose do these plants present?

He'll have to ask Bree later. With that in mind he continues up the path before stopping in front of the door. He wonders how to approach this matter. He was taught that as a male he can go wherever he wants whenever he want, but he reminded himself that he is in the territory of a unmated female and who knows, she might have some combat skills hidden amongst her other unnatural talents. He raises a fist and knocks gently on the door, stepping back as he waits.

It isn't long before he hears movement and the door opens to reveal Bree, his first assignment.

She looks the same since the last time he saw her visit the Keep lord, she has just entered adulthood while Va'lorn still has at least one more cycle to complete before he is dubbed a man. The only thing is she appears to have grown taller to the point where she and Va'lonr are almost eye to eye. Their same color orange eyes peer into one another while taking in what they are wearing. She is wrapped in the traditional robes of a Sangheili, but they have designs lace onto them, looking like she had done the work herself. He must admit he probably doesn't look as intimidating as he hoped to, who would be afraid of a blue armored Minor after all?

If Bree was offended by the rank of her new guardian she doesn't show it. She even smiles, with a almost tender look in her eyes.

This alone is enough to cause Va'lorn to question what kind of person he is dealing with.

That is answered when she holds out her hand with her palm open. Va'lorn is confused a bit until he remembers this is how she greeted people. She holds out her hand and the person in turn would shake it. In the back of his mind he wonders if this is some sort of human gesture. Cautiously he holds out his own hand, presses it against hers, feel her tighten the hold and she gives one firm shake.

She smiles at him once more before motioning for him to enter. Taking in another lungful of air, Va'lorn enters and Bree shuts the door as he does so.

He takes one glance around and instantly knew that this place is indeed different. The hallway he is in have squares hanging from them, squares that contains images, but they look so bizarre and random to Va'lorn. Without realizing it, he moves down the corridor, observing each piece of art, all of them are different, but were obviously created in the same manner. They are of different objects, pictures of birds, animals, suns, planets, Sangheilis. One picture causes him to pause though, it was placed among the rest of the pictures, but it stood out for reasons unknown to Va'lorn.

It was an image of a human.

For most of his young life he was told of the barbarians known as humanity, a race that is just as savage and deceptive as the Jiralhanae. They wage war upon one another, have different sects and views that sets them apart, none having the same insight as the other. Their technology is crude compared to those of the Forerunners and their fighting skills are sloppy as if they have never held so much as a blade their entire lives.

However the tables had turn in the past cycle when the Sangheili lost almost everything; honor, glory and chief of all pride when the Covenant reveled how weak they are and it is now the humans, the former enemy, who is helping them.

Still unaware of what he is doing, Va'lorn reaches forward, tugs the small square from the wall and stares at the image that is protected by some barrier that feels like glass. But his real focus is on the lone being in the center of the artwork.

It is delicately detailed to the point that Va'lorn believes he is staring at a black and white hologram and the alien is truly staring back at him. The being is a warrior, which is obvious due to the fact that the alien is holding a weapon and is clothed in armor. He guesses it's a male, though he had heard stories that the humans allow females to fight alongside them. Yet what surprise him are the male's eyes. They appear to be sparkling, a bright light of interest as he stares off into space.

Va'lorn then feels the presence and looks to his left, almost bumping his head against Bree's. He then feels foolish. Here he is in his charge's home yet he acted like it's his and is at the moment violating her space and privacy.

Bree doesn't look angry or even affronted by the lack of respect to her home. She merely looks at him before nodding at the picture, almost as if she is confirming something.

Va'lorn isn't sure what she is trying to say, but hoping to get some idea, he puts the imagery back in its former place before looking to the female again. She still has that same smile and gestures for him to follow her. She doesn't wait to see if he is following as she leads the way into one of the rooms with Va'lorn hurrying after her.

He pauses upon entering and is surprised once more. There is a large opening in the wall, a window, allowing Bree to look outside and view one of the suns as it descends and sets while the another ball of light remains in high orbit. There is a large table where two plates have been place, each one containing some sort of meal that is radiating the scent of meat. In the far corner is what appears to be a food processing area while the rest of the room is overflowing with various pictures. Each one though looks to be incomplete, almost as if the artist, Bree he suppose, is having a hard time focusing.

A small snap is heard and he turns his head to see that the sound had originated from Bree's fingers. He wonders how she produced the noise without using her vocal chords, a fact that chills him when he remembers that she is mute. How is she doing this?

She waves at him to have a seat in front of the meal that is practically inviting Va'lorn to feast, but he hesitates. What is it he is supposed to do? Is it even allowed for him, a guard, to eat while watching his charge? Why is she treating him like a guest rather than a warrior?

She doesn't appear to be asking herself these questions for she sits and looks up to him, as if waiting for him to come and join her. Finally he moves towards the table and sits, deciding to take the offering of food as an order from a superior.

He bows his head before saying, "thank you." His eyes suddenly widens as he realizes that this is the first tie he had spoken to her, he didn't even introduce himself.

He keeps his head lowered as he says, "My apologies ma'am, I didn't mean to forget myself, I am Va'lorn Mosali."

She smiles and nods her head. Does this mean she know who he is? Was she expecting him? Of course she is, she prepared a meal for him didn't she?

He is still wheeling from this small revelation when he notices that she is doing something with her hands. She is moving them in a variety of forms, holding up digits and twisting her hand before pointing at herself. He stares at her blankly before she performs the same action again. He blinks once as she does it a third time. Finally it dawns on him what it is she is doing.

"Bree," he says, using her name for the first time, "are you saying your name is Bree?"

She grins and nods in answer while Va'lorn sighs within himself. If this is how they are going to speak to each other for the duration of the cycle, Va'lorn might as well make an attempt at learning how she uses her hands to speak.

He then looks down at his meal and takes it in. He isn't really sure what it is he is staring at; it looks like meat, but it is brown and is radiating heat, not looking as nutritious as a fresh kill would.

He looks up to gage Bree's reaction to the meal but see that she has her head lowered. For a moment he thought she was bowing to him when he notices that she is making rapid gestures with her hands, capturing his curiosity. She then finishes before opening her eyes, grabs two of the utensils closest to her and uses them as she eat. Wishing not to disrespect her, Va'lorn grabs the same utensils and eats as well.

Bree uses the strange tools skillfully, she uses one to hold down the meat while using a small blade to cut it into pieces before presenting it to her mandibles, which in turns grab hold of each piece and pulls it into her mouth. It is obvious this is how she usually consumes her meal, but Va'lorn could not grasp it. Literally, the meat would not hold still for him, each time he presses down on it the dull blade would make a squeak that would hurt his ears and project the meat to move across the plate. He is also unable to cut the meat into squares, they will come out sloppily and disfigured. Finally he gave up and just picks up the food, wraps his mandibles around it and slowly bit off piece by piece of it. He is unsure if he would call the meal satisfying or if it's even worthy of praise with the unusual flavors he tastes on his tongue, but all that matter is that its filling his stomach.

Va'lorn finishes off the last of his meal and looks back to Bree who is still eating calmly with no rush, eyeing Va'lorn every so often.

The male tries to wait for her to finish so that he could leave the table, but patience was never his strong suit.

"May I go and check the perimeter?" he finally asks her.

Bree just looks up and nods, not appearing the least bit upset that he requests for an early leave.

Taking that small gesture in, Va'lorn stands and lumbers off to search the house.

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Va'lorn has checked every room, every door and every crack before concluding that the house is secured. He peeked into Bree's bedroom, not daring to enter, and sees that's there are no windows so there's no threat of an intruder entering from any way other than the door. She has two spare rooms, filled with boxes that looks human in nature, filled with objects that baffles the Sangheili, but he decides none of them are hazardous and leaves them where they are. Each window in the structure is securely shut and even has some sort of device hooked to them, did Bree place them there and what are they for? He'll have to ask her later. With his initial observation completed, he returns to the same room to see how Bree is fairing.

She had finished her meal and is slightly shock to see that she even took the time to clean the dishes. As a important figure does she not have her own servants to perform such tasks for her? Then again, he hasn't seen anyone else within the house, so it must only be him and Bree together.

The female in question is seated on the other side of the room, sitting in front of some sort of furniture piece that is holding up a large paper while she moves a stylus over its surface. He is sure she hasn't notice his presence, so he stands by the door and keeps a keen eye on her, occasionally flicking his eyes all over the room as he searches for threats.

Units begins to go by to the point that one of the suns have set while the other is rising, a sign that its time to sleep, but Bree doesn't look the least bit tired.

Curious with what she is doing, Va'lorn walks up to her and takes one glance at the paper and becomes transfixed.

On the large paper she is drawing on are plain figures with no faces, hands or feet, just outlines of bodies, five to be specific. Yet what it was that captures his attention the mostly is the smaller image that is being held up by a small clip in the corner of the paper. It is an image, but this one is different. The figures look completely lively, all fully colored and all looking cheerful, but that's not what he found interesting, not entirely. It is an image of four human warriors, and the one in the middle is holding something in its lap, something small and who is looking just as happy as the humans. It is a Sangheili youngling, wearing a strange set of clothing style similar to what the humans are wearing except for their armor, but what stands out to Va'lorn are the youngling's eyes. They are a familiar shade of orange.

The male turn to face the ever cheerful face of Bree as she watches him, his stump yet amazed face must no doubt look amusing to her.

He looks between the Bree standing before her and the smaller Bree in the image; both smiling, both looking extremely happy. He wonders if this image is some sort of portal to the past, it's so real, far better than anything he has seen Bree create.

Bree lays a soothing hand on Va'lorn's arm, causing him to look at her. He can see something in her eyes, almost like it's a welcoming gesture of some sort.

He glances at the image one last time before looking to her and asks, "Who are the humans?"

Her smile falters slightly, but not all the way. She raises her stylus and writes on the paper once more, but instead of a picture, she is writing something. Va'lorn watches as if he is entrance before she raises her hand and one word is presented to him, written in the Sangheili hieroglyphs.

_Family_

Now he is really confused. Does this female not know that she was among foreign species? How could she think of the humans as one of their own? How did she fall into the company of humans to begin with? Where did this happen? How did it happen? Who are these aliens? And what did they do to her?

He hears slight shuffling behind him and turns to look. Bree has grabbed a much smaller pad and is writing something. When she is finished, she hands it over to him.

_They are my family._

Va'lorn knows this, she probably just wrote it to assure him that she knows what she is talking about and there is no mistake.

Still, he looks up at her, too many questions still flowing through his mind before he finally utters one word, "how?"

She slowly looks past him, as if she in deep thought, processing the words in her mind as it travels deep into her past. Va'lorn is sure units have passed before she retrieve the pad from his hand, writes something down and present it to him.

It is a simple sentence, but one that he finds just as mind blowing and as alien as it could ever become, a sentence that he could not understand, a sentence with a word that he could not identify, a sentence that will no doubt change the way he views the female forever as he reads what she just wrote.

_My father was a Marine_.

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**I'll probably update this after I update my other Halo fic Unexpected Allinace in case you're wondering. I have no idea when the next chapter will be up, but I hope you can be patient. **

**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	2. A Marine

**AN: Just passing on a message, if any of you have read or are reading a story by "Sabere Commander," just letting you know he/she is experiencing technical difficulties so it may be a month before he/she can update again. **

**I don't know why but this music plays in my head every time I think about this story: **

**Honor: by Hans Zimmer, Geoff Zanelli &amp; Blake Neely: (I don't own the song)**

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**(Warning: contains blood and gore)**

**July 08, 2537-Outer Colonies- Planet Nirvana**

"Increase elevation two degrees, adjust three degrees left!"

"Set!"

"Hanging!"

"Fire!"

Mark Straka holds the mortar above the tube for a millisecond to register the command before dropping the explosive. He hears the round slide down a bit before he squats and covers his ears by this time he hears the muffled thud and looks over his shoulder just in time to see the white smoke trail soar through the sky and disappear behind the mountain they are aiming.

Spread out five yards apart from Mark's team are various other mortar crews as they work to the bone, firing off their rounds. Hirako gazes through her binoculars before looking to Fredrik who is positon behind the mortar, adjusting the knobs for the elevation and swivel movement.

"How we looking Freddy?" she hollers out to him.

"Doing fine," Fred responds before looking to Mark, "What about you Mark?"

"Could be better," Mark calls back as he wipes at his sweaty brow. He swears they have been firing for over an hour now, the supposedly new and improve forty millimeter mortar tube prove that part as steam floats from the tube.

"Cease fire!" a sharp voice shouts over the barrage, "Cease fire."

"Thank God," Hirako mutters as she rubs her eyes, "I have a headache from all the times the glass hit my eyes."

"I'll say," Mark remarks, "Red eyes don't exactly make you look attractive," he adds a smile to show he meant no offense.

Truth be told, Hirako has the body of a war time Marine, which she is. Her five foot nine statues is about average around some areas, but not exactly challenging. She has her long shiny hair carefully concealed within her helmet so that it would stay "perfect," despite the heat from the mortar firing and the intense heat from the planet's twin suns. Her brown eyes are covered behind the standard issued goggles and her hands are likewise covered with gloves; despite her being the squad's spotter, she still wears protective gear because the intense exhaust heat from the tube could strike anyone of the team members.

Hirako mumbles before throwing a small rock at Mark, catching him in the chest.

He just gives her another grin as he wipes the remnants of the dirt off his armored chest. They were told that the armor is to protect their bodies from the heat and exhaust as well, but they all knew that the Covenant are now deploying hunter killer squads who will try and kill Marines positioned behind the supposed safety line. They all have at least experienced combat once, whether it was in civilian or military life it didn't matter, thy all have been through the drill and knows what to be expected of them.

Mark takes this moment though to remove his helmet and swipe ash and dust off from his buzz cut blond hair that is slowly growing. His pale eyes scan the ridge, trees and valleys for snipers, but so far the little slope they are positioned on is safe, or as safe as it gets around these parts.

The outer colony world known as Nirvana was once a resort planet; built to house a small populace with its exotic locations, clear waters and rigorous valleys. The place has a number of hotels, cafes, guide tours and even mini-palaces for the billionaires who use it as their summer or winter homes, depending on the person's home planet to begin with. Since the war began, fewer and fewer people came, it wasn't long before the flow of tourists and hot shots slowed to a trickle; either people were too scared to leave their homes or they were killed, which is basically the grim reality of things. The UNSC tried to make it into a refuge for people who lost their homes in the wake of the genocide the Covenant is spearheading, but the land was simply too extreme for people to live in, between the weather, wildlife and lack of proper living space, including tent wise, the refuge was a bust. It was then converted to a growth world, tasked with growing food, but that proved difficult since there are only a few spaces of land that was considered fertile for planting. An industrial planet was out of the question, the land is too rough and humanity didn't have the resources or the time to build factories, so aside from providing a few mouthfuls of food, there was really nothing the planet could contribute to the war effort or the civilian population.

Then came the Covenant forces a few months ago and the Marines of the Fourth Division were sent in. This was considered a high prioritized battle, under no circumstances are the Marines to lose the planet, the loss of an outer planet so close to the inner colonies is what many people are taking as a sigh that the end of the human race is near.

All of this had conspired together and had resulted with Mark being in the hole he is in. This isn't his first tour of duty, but this is the longest. A whole solid month of ground battles…something's up. Usually the Covenant would send a few ships planet side to perform some sort of recon before they glass the planet, all within the span of a few hours. It's quite rare for there to be a day of fighting, but a whole month? There is no doubt that this is the bloodiest thing Mark and the Marines have ever been a part of, no questions asked.

"Hey Mark," Freddy calls out, "what are you thinking about?"

"Why we're here."

"You have an answer to that?" is Fred's next question.

"No," answers Mark, "but you'll be the first person I'll tell when I figure it out."

"There's only one reason you're here," comments Hirako as she drinks from her canteen of water.

"And what would that be?" Mark questions.

"Survival," replies the female Marine, "unlike other wars, we cannot surrender, the enemy won't allow it, it's either extermination or win the war," her eyes settles on the mountain they have just been shelling, "those are our only options."

"You're a bright ray of sunshine Sergeant Oshawa, you know that?" a new voice suddenly breaks in.

The mortar crew turns their heads but isn't really surprised to see Captain Anthony "Skipper" Tiscali. Unlike most military officers, Skipper is real slack due to his young age, that much can be told just by observing how he dresses. He is wearing a long sleeve shirt beneath his armor, but has rolled up his sleeves to give his forearms a "tan" as he says. He has brown hair and a young face; he's probably no more than thirty, an old man by Marine standards, which results with giving him the rights to call everybody either "Kiddo," "kid," or "munchkin". He has a free flowing personality, and is always considerate about his decisions, which are odd in some ways. Like how he orders his Marines not to cause any unnecessary destruction to "mama" nature. Yet what earns him the respect of his mortar platoon is that he wouldn't send his men into a combat situation that could get them killed, if he ever had the option of course.

True to his playful nature, the Captain slides down into the foxhole without an invitation and casually takes his helmet off and rubs his hair.

"So what's up Captain?" Freddy suddenly asks as he offers the senior officer his water bottle.

Hirako and Mark locks eyes before they both roll them. No matter how wild Skipper seems to act or how he insists on calling him by his nickname is alright, Freddy always sucks up to him. Maybe he's just tired of being a Private First Class whereas Mark and Hirako have been promoted throughout the years.

Skipper smiles as he takes the water, giving no indication that he is truly grateful for the gesture or not before taking a quick swig.

As he screws the cap back on he says, "That Covenant command post that the air boys supposedly found," Skipper puts a lot of sarcasm into his words, "has been reduced to smoking ashes."

"That's it?" Mark asks.

"Well there's also word that there was another clash further down the valley again, but so far we are maintaining control of the southern hemisphere," Tony reports, giving the water back to Freddy as he does so.

The news can't be that good. Either the Marines have held the line and lost a large amount of men and equipment to achieve victory or the Captain is lying and the Marines have lost some ground.

Mark opens his mouth to ask another question but is interrupted as six helicopters flies overhead. They are flying so low that dust, pebbles and a good amount of cussing went into the air before they flew away. Mark can see the twin barrels on two of the choppers and guesses that they are Sparrow Hawks, while the other two have open compartments with boots hanging over the sides, Falcons.

"Who are they?" Hirako asks while placing her binoculars to her eyes and tries to get a good look at the choppers.

"ODSTs," Captain says as he lies against the wall of the hole and puts on polarized sun glasses colored bright green, "they're being sent in to secure the site."

"Well that'll keep them quiet," Freddie breaks in with a wide grin, all the while eyeing the Captain, probably to see if he finds the comment funny, but Skipper remains still with a blank expressin, so Mark nods his head in agreement with Freddie.

The ODSTs have been complaining nonstop for the past few weeks about being paired with "regulars." After the first week of fighting, Marines have been dying left and right, leaving large holes in platoon numbers, so as a solution, HIGHCOM in all their wisdom has decided to place squads of Shock Troopers within the ranks of the other Marines. The Troopers see themselves as an elite fighting force, one that should be kept separate from other fighting units, for what reason, Mark has no idea, they probably thinks it's a disgrace to fight alongside anyone who isn't a part of their group. However he does have to admit that the Troopers are pretty good at getting the job done; the Marines may be the first to fight, but the ODSTs are the spearheads of all their assaults.

The Helicopters moving into a possibly hostile area proves this point. But Mark, despite being twenty five years old, have seen enough of war to know that one day the Troopers luck is going to run-

Large green plasma bolts suddenly shoots from the ground and strikes one of the Sparrow Hawks. There is a massive explosion as the round hits the aircrafts reserve tanks and within a single second, the helicopter becomes a flaming fire ball as it falls to the ground.

Acting on pure instinct and muscle memory; Mark and his three man squad rushes into action. Freddie checks the degrees on the scope position alongside the mortar tube, Mark takes out another forty millimeter round and Hirako looks through her binoculars to sight in on the enemy's location.

However Skipper jumps in front of them and waves his arms, "Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"

Throughout the small emplacement, similar cries are being heard as the Company commanders tries to stop the mortar teams from firing. The command comes too late though; Mark hears the thump and turns to see a round skyrocketing into the air. He then looks back to the mountain and freezes. The choppers are still in the AO, Area of Operations, the target zone.

They are flying in circles, the remaining Sparrow Hawk is releasing the cannon's payload unto the enemy forces while the Falcons spin in complete circles as the door gunners and Troopers fire their weapons, trying to hit an enemy the mortar squads can't see, but who they know are there.

Mark hears the whistle and someone gasps in horror as they see the mortar descending. Seeing the danger, the helicopters whirl their way out of the airspace just as the explosive hits the ground, thankfully missing the choppers, a close call in friendly fire terms.

The choppers back off, but instead of retreating, they begin to descend somewhere within the rocky regime of the mountain, blocking them from the mortar team's view.

There is a nothing but stillness as the Marines wait for further orders. The mortars are antipersonnel explosives, design to cause complete havoc against ground troops as they release a hail of shrapnel that can shred any fleshy being to pieces. With no idea where the ODSTs have landed, nobody wants to chance firing off a round and killing their own guys, no matter how much the Orbital Troopers are loathed.

"Tiscali!" the sudden shout almost causes Mark to drop the mortar before every head turns to see Major Jerry Kerr, the Executive Officer of Delta Company. The short red face man isn't accustomed to the hard life of a combat Marine, so he took his anger out on everyone, insulting people after he is sure they are of lower rank compared to his Major statues.

"Captain!" the Major shouts again, "get your skinny little butt over here!"

Skipper gives Kerr an odd look before taking off his glasses, but not before Hirako speaks.

"How does he know you have a skinny little butt?" she teases.

He shrugs, "maybe he's been checking me out," he flashes her a grin, "I am a pretty handsome dude don't you know?" Hirako doesn't have a chance to reply as Skipper turns and makes his way to the XO (Executive Officer).

Mark replaces his own helmet and makes sure all of his gear is on correctly. The suns will be setting soon, it's usually during the night does the Covenant begin their killing raids. At the thought, he self-consciously reaches out and picks up his SMG, Mark doesn't need a rifle, usually the infiltrators will be so close that he could feel their warm breaths washing over him. He loads it and pulls back the clip, he dully notices that everyone else is doing the same thing as well, Hirako is picking up her own SMG while Freddie loads his shotgun.

The three friends hunker low, but remains at the ready. A nighttime mission team may needs firing support or an illuminator may need to be sent up to check if there are any enemy personnel within the vicinity.

A low distant rumble is heard and for a moment, Mark thought it was going to rain. However he realizes that the sound is originating from the mountain and guesses that the ODSTs are finally going to work. He stares at the mount for a while before his eyes travel over the other ranges surrounding them, as well as the valley.

Everything looks green, the mountain's base is covered in a jungle like forest while from ground up its clear save for some grassy and rocky lands. Everything looks so peaceful and surreal, but the evidence of war is everywhere. If he looks closely, Mark can see the mini craters created by powerful artillery shells and the scorched soil from where plasma bolts have landed. In the distant skies he can just make out the shadow of a Covenant Corvette as it slowly floats across the planet, probably heading off to a new battleground. The low flying ships are in perfect positions to begin a glassing process, but why didn't they? The whole planet is practically covered with human Marines, potential threats to them, so why not take this opportunity to annihilate them?

"Sergeant Oshawa," Skipper comes back into view, strapping on his helmet as he does so, "get your men together, you're the new QRF (Quick Reaction Force) and you're being deployed, now."

Hirako seems to turn green before she sputters out, "B-but, Skipper, I mean Captain, w-we, th-that is I-I," finally she gains her confidence back and says, "sir, we're a mortar squad, we get into skirmishes but we don't attack or lead assaults."

"True," Skipper says in a solemn voice, "but you're the squad I like most, mostly because you don't whine, so I know you're the ones most determine to survive, and probably the ones most determine to win."

Mark tries to figure out if his Captain is joking or not, but Freddie jumps to his feet and salutes, "sir! We'll get it done sir!"

Freddie doesn't flinch, but he does quivers from the death stares his fellow teammates are giving him.

"Good," Skipper says with a smile, "by the time you get up there, the ODSTs will probably have killed everything and all you need to do is mop up the mess," with that he turns and walks back to Kerr.

"Is that better or worse compared to fighting," Mark mutters under his breath as he slowly rises and twists his cramp body a little.

"Oh," Skipper turns around and says, "Seymour is going with you," he then continues walking.

The team freezes at these words. Gunnery Sergeant Seymour is a legend within the platoon, or to be more exact, a myth considering nobody knows his background story or believes the tales told about him. His very existence is question, the man is a giant, over seven feet tall, pure muscle and as silent as the grave. He wears the Marine armor all the time, sun up to sun down, hides his eyes behind goggles and covers every inch of his skin with clothing. Rumor has it that he can bench over a thousand pounds, many found this unbelievable, but not Mark, he saw the man once take on an Elite in hand to hand combat and came out on top. Though there are some other odd things about him as well, like how he seems to be wounded, from the first day he was assigned to the platoon he has a sort of limp and people would say he had obtained shrapnel in his limb. Despite this though, he is an amazing fighter, whenever the men in the platoon makes contact he would rush in, guns a blazing. He is one heck of a Marine, but that does not help the fact that he is separate from the others, separated through fear and oddness, Mark is ashamed to admit it, but honestly, the dude is scary, even more so when he doesn't talk, grunt or anything else for that matter.

Still, in times like this, Mark is more than glad that he and the others have a titan fighting alongside with them.

Slowly they crawl out of their hole, but Hirako halts Freddie, "cover the gear."

Freddie looks ready to argue but holds his tongue when he remembers he doesn't argue with his friend, especially when she uses her "I'm a higher rank" tone on him. Grumbling silently, Freddie breaks out the tarp and starts to cover the mortars and the tube to keep dust and water from ruining them.

While he does this, Hirako and Mark starts their descent down the hill they are on, heading towards the road directly beneath them, with Hirako still fuming.

"That was a little rough, wasn't it?" Mark eventually asks her.

She glowers before saying, "Perhaps."

"It's not like he volunteered us," Mark continues, "even if he didn't say anything, we still had to go."

"Why do you always have to be the annoying voice of reason?" Hirako suddenly demands.

Mark shrugs, "well somebody has to be."

The rest of the journey is completed in silence. Another few yards later, they finally make it to the bottom. There are Warthogs, with either turrets or extra seats for troop transport set up in their beds. Mechanics and Marines watch over them with a careful eye, the Covenant have made it a type of sport to destroy as many human vehicles a possible, knowing how much human soldiers depend on the fast transportation and the firepower the vehicles provide. Which is why the Marine mortar team is disgusted with what the mechanics presented them.

"You want us to ride into a war zone on that?!" Freddie exclaims.

The vehicle before them is a Spade, a civilian truck built to travel over tough terrain, but there are no windows (save for the windshield), no doors, and absolutely no cover for the unlucky fool riding in the back. Worse, its bright orange! The suns are setting, but the thing is practically glowing, making its very existence look like an insult to the term "stealth".

"This is all we have," the Corporal mechanic says as he puffs out smoke from his cigarette.

"Uh-huh," Hirako says as she nods her head, "and what about those?"

She jerks her head to five Warthogs lined up right next to the Spade.

"In reserve," replies the Corporal, "in case we need to make a quick getaway."

"But we are the QRF," Mark tries to explain, "We need to support some men up in the mountains, how do you suggest we do that with this thing?" he waves an arm at the vehicle.

"Well normally I would suggest ramming them," here he gestures at the metal plates position in front of the wheel, "but since you're the…'QRF'," he puts extra stress on the word, "I'll make you a deal, just put that on top of the roll cage in the back and you'll be fine."

The thing he was indicating is an M247th Heavy Machine Gun, which is lying on the ground.

"Well…how do we get it up there?" Mark asks as he looks at the back of the truck, remembering that the gun probably weighs two hundred rounds.

"That's your problem," the mechanic says as he flips the butt of his cigarette at the Marines, hitting Freddie's chest plate armor, "but if you want advice," he leans in before whispering, "I suggest you lift with your knees." He flashes them a cocky smile before walking away.

Hirako mutters a dark oath as she gazes at the mechanic with dagger like eyes.

Mark sighs as he looks at the gun and says, "Well someone got to do it, and we have a date to catch, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hirako admits as they all converge on the gun. They make sure the safety is off, but they all stay clear of the barrel.

"On three, ready?" Hirko says, "Three, two...holy sonova-!" her curse is replace with a groan of effort as she tries to hold up the weight of the massive gun.

The gun feels more like its three hundred pounds instead of two hundred, causing them to stumble a bit as they do their best not to drop the gun on themselves. They are in pretty good shape, but that doesn't mean much at the minute as they struggle with their load.

Moaning and swearing under their breaths, the Marines carry the weapon to the Warthog, parked two meters away. They manage to lift the thing up to their waist before their strength gives out and they are forced to lower the gun.

"How did they move this thing anyway?" Freddie questions as he puts some pressure on his back.

"They probably used a crane," Hirako says as she rubs her hands, "I swear I need to kill something today or I'm going to-"

"Heads up," Mark interrupts and points directly behind her.

Hirako looks to see what had grabbed her companion's attention and her eyes widen.

Standing right behind them, appearing like a ghost, is Gunnery Sergeant Seymour. Mark isn't sure whether to salute or to make a run for it. The guy is huge, easy to believe why most people thinks he's a giant. All three of them have to bend their heads back just to look into his goggle covered eyes. His mouth is set in a grim determine line and his clean shaven face gives nothing away, almost like he is made of granite.

Hirako is the first to break contact, she coughs and gestures at the gun, "We need to-"

However, Seymour is already moving. He grabs the gun with one hand and with a grunt he lifts it off the ground till it reaches his hip. He grunts again as he places a foot on the truck's bed and heaves himself into the back. He takes one last step, grunts again and elevates the gun one last time before dropping it on top of the roll cage. He then casually reaches into his pack and withdraws wire looking string and wraps it around the gun, securing it to the vehicle.

Freddie lets out a low whistle, "That's how you do it," he mutters under his breath. Seymour twists his head around and stares at the Marine who just spoke. Freddie cowers a bit but the Gunny nods at him before planting his feet apart and holds on to the truck with one hand while the other rests on the handle of the machine gun.

"Guess that's the signal to move," Hirako says as she walks towards the Spade and says, "Freddie, you're driving, Mark, get in the back."

Mark stops and turns to his squad leader, "why me?" he demands, while he tries his best not to sound like he's whining.

"Because you're the lucky one," she calls back as she settles in the passenger seat in the Spade, "the fact that you made it into the Marine Corps prove that point."

Mark doesn't have the heart to argue at the moment. He looks up at Seymour for his permission to join him. The Gunny however just stares off into the space in front of them, appearing oblivious to the world around him.

Gulping nervously, the young Marine climbs into the back bed, stands, and comes up next to the Gunny, planting his hands on the roll cage as he does so. He glances at Seymour who still doesn't acknowledge Mark's presence, so Mark just sighs as he makes sure his SMG is still sling onto his back before grabbing the safety rail in front of him once more.

"All set?" Freddie calls back.

"What will you do if I say no?" Mark asks.

"Nothing, cause we're going," before he could remark to this, the Spade suddenly shoots forward and Mark hangs on for dear life as he came close to being thrown off.

"So much for being lucky," Mark mummers.

* * *

They traveled for nearly thirty minutes, but in that time span, the suns have finally fallen behind the ridgelines and the world became dark. This is the time for the new moon, so there isn't anything in the skies, the few stars that are visible doesn't give off any forms of light at all. In the distance Mark can just scarcely makes out muzzle flashes, originating either from Marine arms or Covenant weapons. Blue and yellow fire criss cross across the valley floor in a never ending fight. Mark is sure glad he isn't down there, then again that may change since they are almost to their objective.

A sudden bump almost throws Mark off, but Seymour's arm shoots out like a bolt of lightning, grabs him by the scruff of his neck and yanks him back onto the Spade.

"Thanks," breathes Mark, but Seymour returns to manning the gun and resumes his statue like pose.

Turning away, Mark tries to concentrate on something, anything, aside from the small feeling of dread starting to cloud his mind.

Slowly, the surroundings remind him of home, or what was home. Harvest was a pretty bright world, summer all year round, perfect for growing and gathering food almost on a daily basis. Yet despite its bright never ending sunshine, the planet had no moon, which made night time travel a very dangerous and nerve racking experience.

The Straka family lived in the newly developed section of the planet. There were no malls, no theatres or super markets, all that the small settlement had to offer was a local trading post that sold month old comics and one credit novels. There were no pave roads either, nor were there any empty plots of land for people to throw parties or to have a small road race. Not exactly appealing aspects for most teens, but Mark wasn't like most people his age back then.

His family was…lower class he supposes. They had a small field for themselves and spent every credit and every drop of sweat to make ends meet. They had a JOTUN, but it was old and kept breaking down, resulting with Mark's parents working long and hard in the field. Because of this he was mostly raised by his grandmother who was a former school teacher, so he had an early start in education and manners. That, plus his grandmother knew how to swing a stick and made sure that Mark listen, but that only happened once or twice. However though it seemed like a benefit, his advanced learning made him different from other kids, making him more mature and more respectful. His fellow schoolmates would tease him about how he would rather read a book than play Grav-ball. Because of the teasing he would often run home and spend time with his grandmother, before he eventually became eight years old and joined his mother and father out in the fields. They were happy with how he turned out, but he somehow felt his father disapproved of him, and Mark knew why. His dad was once a Grav-ball champion from his old school days; he proudly displayed the trophies in the living room and showed them off to whoever came to visit. Sometimes as a family outing they would go to a local Grav-ball game and Mark is sure his father would glance at him before looking to the fields.

Mark was pretty content with his life as a smart and well-being child. But he wanted his father to be proud of him. He started lifting weights, going for runs and forced himself to work hard in the fields. One day he tried out for the Grav-ball team, but he didn't really know all the rules of the sport or the necessary requirements to participate. He quit the team after only an hour of drills; long enough to make everyone on his team hate his guts for being so horrible. The coach even called him a quitter as Mark walked away, making him feel miserable yet at the same time determine to do something that hardly anyone can boast about.

So what does he do? He talks to a Militia recruiter the very next day.

The Militia consists mostly of kids and older people from retired public services such as police officers or fire fighters. The Militia teaches you to salute, fire a gun, the ranks of the military, and how to march, which is basically it. There is real no future for the people in the Militia, it was more like a volunteer group kind of deal, and they promised some action but not a whole lot. Originally Mark wanted to head instantly to the UNSC and join the Army or maybe even the Marines if he was strong enough, but he though the Militia would be the first stepping stone in that chain.

His family didn't take it well though. His grandmother burst into tears on the spot. His mother instantly jumped up and bereted him like he robbed a bank or something. Yet what had the most impact on him was his father. He didn't yell, he didn't yank out his hair, and he didn't cry, he just calmly got up from the kitchen table and walked out the door.

Mark felt sick but he pressed his mother to sign the papers. With the increase of Insurgent activities, the age restriction line had dropped from eighteen to fifteen, Mark's age. His mother screamed in his face that he will not leave school; he needed to finish his education and go to college. What chance did he have in college though? They can barely make it with him in regular school, where will he get the money to go to college?

His mother told him to simply get a job, there was a large demand for farmhands, but Mark didn't want to help till soil all day or sit bored out of his mind as he watched a machine do all the work. He wanted to matter, to do something worth being proud of. So he spends as much time in school as he could before he announced the news to his shocked parents; with his excellent grades he can graduate early, at the age of sixteen.

After that it was a long night of negotiations. His mother simply refused for him to go to the Militia, his dad was still silent so that left all the talking up to grandma. Her primary concern was him getting killed, he reassured her though that Militia troops don't get sent into the field of fire so he should be safe (he doesn't mention to them his secret ambition of joining the UNSC soon afterwards.) Then there was the problem of him being fed, clothed and cared for, but he showed them that once the papers were signed and he turned them in than he would be considered "UNSC property," and the UNSC will do its best to keep him alive, not counting the fact that he may enter a conflict sometime soon. With the plain and simple facts laid out in front of them, his grandmother, and through her his mother, agree that he wouldn't be in much danger and signed him in. His father just wrote his signature, not saying a word throughout the whole ordeal.

He happily turned in the papers and he became a part of the Militia. True to his words, there wasn't really much to do in Militia training. Just three weeks of marching, saluting, manual book reading and shooting, after that he was a Militia man.

He remembers his last night on Harvest. He got his first real orders to report to Jericho VII for guard duty, a lot of people in the Militia were ticked up from the prospect and even more so when they had to buy their own tickets and fly like civilians on a space shuttle, but Mark loved it. He did feel sorrow though when his family came to see him off. He tried protesting, but his grandmother gave him a bag full of his favorite books, from novels to children picture stories, she packed it all, even a small box of cookies. His mother was still red eyed and clung to him for what felt like hours until his dad had to pull her off when they announced that Mark's shuttle is set in leave in a minute.

His father however stepped up to him, gazed at him in the eyes before simply saying, "Be careful" and shook his hand. Mark was puzzled when he felt something hard and cold pressed into his palm and looked down to see that his father had pressed a military medal into his hand, but not just any medal; it was the medal of Distinguish Service. Mark was awe struck; he didn't even know his father was in the Army or in any wars at that, he always thought of him as a small town Grav-ball super star that spent the rest of his life as a farmer.

His dad merely smiled, Mark wish he could ask him how he got the award, but his flight was due to leave, so he was forced to leave his family and make his way to the ship. He remembers watching as they hover over the brown planet for one more moment before making the jump.

He would arrive on Jericho VII, and would be performing his duties for only a week when he got the word. Humanity made contact with alien life forms who aren't interested in making friends. In show of this, they have taken or destroyed one of the outer colony worlds; Harvest.

Mark's life changed that moment forward; he left the Militia and joined the Marines. He had been fighting ever since.

An unexpected jerk nearly throws Mark over the cab of the truck, but Seymour grabs him again and pulls him back.

"Well here we are," Freddie announces as he jumps out, shotgun in hand, "we're in the deep end now."

Mark couldn't help but agree. The dirt road they were following has come to a halt right before a smaller path that had been beaten down by boots. The trail leads upwards and deep into the mountains, Mark tries his best to tell himself that the gunfire he is hearing is in his head.

No matter how many years will pass, he's not sure if he'll ever be able to suppress the feeling of fear, only the strong determination to protect his friends, his buddies, is what makes him pick up the rifle and keep them safe. With that resolve in his head, he unslings his SMG before jumping to the ground and double checks his equipment.

He has on his battle armor, a small med kit, some K-rations, his K-bar knife strap to his shoulder armor plate, and his helmet. He has attached a small flash light to his helmet, place on gloves and goggles; he's as ready as he'll ever going to be.

"How high up do we need to go?" Freddie asks as he gazes upwards at the dark slopes.

"Pretty high, maybe a mile up," Hirako says as she pops a clip into her own SMG and looks at Seymour, "on your go Gunny."

In answer, Seymour hefts up an assault rifle, nods and leads the way forward, taking massive steps as he goes. The mortar team looks at one another briefly before scrambling after the Gunnery Sergeant.

The path is steep and worn, made by either marching Marines, invading Covenant forces, or local animal life. Either way, unless they are Marines, Mark isn't real keen on meeting whatever made this road.

It isn't long before the small team is huffing and puffing for air. They're a mortar team, they sit in the back and gets into a few fights, that's it, climbing up the side of the mountain isn't exactly their forte, no matter how many times they do it, it's always a challenge for them not to collapse from exhaustion.

Seymour is the only one who appears to be doing alright, he doesn't even appear to be breathing, hisbmouth is shut and his nostrils aren't flaring. For the hundredth time Mark wonders if the man is even human.

They probably climb fifty feet when they hear the sound of battle increases in volume. The Gunny holds up a fist and the small group comes to a halt as they strain their ears to listen. Not too far away, probably a few more feet higher and a yard away originate the cackle of human firearms and the near audible shriek of Covenant plasma weaponry. Seymour listens for another minute before making quick hand gestures.

_Enemy contact ahead, be alert, kill everything that moves_.

Mark isn't comforted by this message, but he knows this is the ordinary drill. They can't take chances, it takes a lot of bullets to bring down a heavy Covie attacker, and though the Grunts are easy to dispose of, they are still dangerous, especially if they decided to go suicide and blow themselves up with grenades. That's not even including the Jackal snipers, the invisible Elites and the savage Brutes.

These thoughts put Mark on high alert as he scans his surroundings. The trees are now becoming scarce to the point that the only thing in sight are rocky crags and outcropping boulders that sticks up, giving the appearance of a hidden combatants. Soon the shadows start to move, the light grows dimmer and the very hills seem to be emitting the cries of battle. With each step, Mark knows they are creeping closer and closer to their objective. What are they going to do? How are a bunch of mortar men with light weapons help out the skilled ODSTs? Are they even still alive? Are they walking into an ambush? What if enemy reinforcements arrive and glass them where they stand?

A sudden fist being hold up stops both Mark's movement and imagination. Seymour careful climbs up the sheer side of a rocky knoll, barely causing any pebbles to fall as he moves with an odd grace. He soon goes down to his belly, keeping his body off the ground as he holds up his rifle with one hand while the other grasps solid surfaces and pulls himself forward inch by inch.

Mark is so busy watching that he flinches when he feels a hand pat his shoulder. He turns to see Hirako who signals to him.

_Watch out, three sixty movements_.

He nods in acknowledgment and turns to scan his surroundings. The rocky mountain sides surround them and increasing darkness isn't helping much either. A slight wind picks up and it carries the smell of burning flesh and pungent smoke. Are they here to back up the Troopers or to be a burial detail?

A small high tone whistle cuts through and gains Mark's attention. He and his friends look up to see Seymour at the lip of the ridge, observing whatever it is that's on the other side. He waves at them to join him, but keeps his eyes locked on whatever lies before him.

The Marines shoulder their weapons and attempts to follow in the Gunny's likeness, but soon finds it impossible to move like him. They would cause mini rock slides, accidently hit a brush or scrape their armor against the stones beneath them. Mark is sure the whole valley must be alerted of their presence with the racket they are making, but they reach the top without making contact yet.

However when he look over the ridge he realizes that they might not meet any resistance at all.

Before them is an eerie camp that is colored purple and seems to be pulsing blue energy. There a dozen structures, all are domed shape and protrude upwards like right sided eggs or something of the likes. There is a central spiral that all the buildings are connected to; it is there where the ODSTs are moving to. The Troopers have swept through the camp without mercy, splattered all over the place are the remains of Covenant soldiers, and, for once, a minimum amount of human corpses. It looks like the Marines are just now finishing off the last pocket of resistance that has backed themselves against the bulk of the Spire in a futile last stand against the Troopers.

"Well now what do we do?" Hirako asks as she watches the losing fight.

"I say we just sit back and watch," Freddie says with a grin, "it's not every day you get to see the Covenant get their tails kicked."

Any dreams of relaxation is dashed however when Seymour makes more hand signals.

_Negative, move in, secure the area, achieve complete victory_.

"But the ODSTs already-" the Gunny doesn't wait for Freddie to protest before he stands and jumps forward. He slides down the slanted ravine as he comes closer to the enemy camp.

Mark sighs, "guess we have to follow."

"Or go AWOL," suggest an actual hope filled Freddie.

"Or you can shut up and be Marine strong, let's go," Hirako commands as she starts sliding down as well.

Mark is quick to follow while he hears Freddie moan behind him, "this sucks," with that said he hears the scraping of boots and knew Freddie is following.

Slipping and sliding down the slope, the small squad makes their way down with only Seymour upholding the poise of a heroic solider while the other three flops over each other before making it to the bottom.

The small valley they are in is quite small and desolate, easy to see why it was hard to get a bead on their target in the first place. The smell of decay and roasting meat is stronger than ever now. Mark coughs as he tries to avoid breathing in the overpowering foul smell, but there is no real way of keeping his nose from smelling the destruction around him.

As they move forward Mark notices the small pockets of holes that were made in the ground and how they are all similar. He realizes that it was their mortar shells from earlier and he was glad they actually hit their targets and not missed them as he feared they had. The structures appear whole save for a couple where a few whose rooftops have collapse and now left large gaping holes.

Seymour pauses as he surveys the area before giving his next orders, by hand as usual.

_Search each building for enemy contacts and data, Sergeant with me, Corporal and PFC together, rendezvous at center in half an hour._

"But didn't the Troopers already do that?" Mark asks.

_No footprints_, the Gunnery Sergeant indicates, _commence with search and meet at center, clear_?

Almost like back at boot camp, the trio of Marines said, "Ohraa."

Seymour nods before gesturing for Hirako to follow and together they move deeper into the compound.

Mark looks at the two buildings on either side of them and says, "We'll check this one first and then check the next after it."

"Why don't I check the next building while you search this one?" Freddie questions, "it'll be a lot faster."

Mark frowns at this. He doesn't like that idea at all. Regulating speaking, Marines are to never go anywhere alone, especially in a war zone. But at the same time he doesn't want to look like a boy scout or anything, and it would go a lot faster if they did split up.

He is still thinking when Fred sighs explosively.

"Dude, the ODSTs probably already cleared this section and we just need to clean up their mess."

Mark is still silent. Freddie mumbles under his breath before saying, "just check this one," he waves at the first building, "and I'll check the other."

"Wha-Wait!" Mark calls out, "we should-"

But Freddie already walks into his own designated building and the conversation ended.

The Corporal listens to the sound of war all around him before releasing a puff of air.

_I'm not a coward_, he thinks to himself as he approaches the structure, _I just don't want to die, that's the same thing…right_?

He has no time to think further on this, he steps forward and enter the threshold. He immediately feels the temperature difference; it feels as if he just entered a cooler or something. He wonders if the Covenant has a AC system or something, but he stops himself from thinking and forcers his body to act.

The building is purple on the inside, the hall is narrow and offers little cover, but so far there is no sign of alien life. It didn't look that big from the outside, but for some reason he has a feeling he has just entered a whole new dimension or something. He pauses every time he reaches a door which would open automatically. He would sweep the room but they would always be clear. Sometimes some of the chambers are empty, or they would be full of consoles, odd looking furniture and once what looks like multiple pods that he thought were bombs until he saw the cushions within them and guess that they are beds.

He soon come upon a stairwell and starts to make his way up. Almost instantly he sees the difference between the two floors. The second floor has more style, the walls were ablaze with light like how a nightclub's interior would look and there is a sort of geographic designs that reminds him of ancient art work he seen from museums. The first room holds what looks like a bed that is fit for a king; it's large, plush and seems well furnished. The rest of the furniture is of equal statues, almost as if he is in the place of royalty.

He leaves the chambers and checks the other. It looks like a sort of dining room with well carved tables and large pillows lies on the floor around them.

_What could anyone do with all this expensive junk_, the Marines wonders. As a mortar man in a war zone, he knows how important it is to be constantly mobile and to only take what he can carry. So who carries all of this stuff around?

A sudden sound breaks through, one that causes Mark to freeze. A loud deep roar echoes through the hall, one that all humans fear, the war cry of blood craving Brutes.

_So much for being clear_, the Corporal thinks to himself as he edges out of the room and inches his way back to the stairs. He doesn't want to make a sound and alert the alien to his presence when he hears another sound but this one is so much different from the first. This sound is a cry, not of rage but from what sounds as if the creature causing it is in pain, almost like a whine.

This is enough to cause the Marine to pause. Every ounce of logic in his head is screaming at him to get out as fast as he can, but something is holding him back, almost as if it's like a gut feeling. His head is informing him to run like crazy down the stairs while an unknown force is egging him to proceed forward and actually move towards the sound. He wants to discards the thought but at that moment he hears the whine again, this one is much more heart felt and more devastating than the first, almost like an animal being tortured.

_Is it another human being_, he wonders, _maybe it's someone I should try and help_.

Another screech of pain and heard before another roar of a Brute splits through his ear.

Finally he decides to follow his instincts and sprints down the hall, all the while thinking, _I am a dumb jarhead alright_.

He turns the corner and notices the lack of doors. Unlike before, there is only one and it's at the end of the hallway like in all the movies and he has seen every horror movie ever made. He hopes this will turn out better than most films end as he rushes to the door. He is a foot away when the doors spins open and he met with a gruesome sight.

Inside is some sort of command room that is covered in blood, blue blood. Bodies of Elites lay slump in chairs, prone on the floor or torn, in most cases, torn limb from limb. He notes the massive cavity in the ceiling as well as the scorch marks and blacken crater in the center of the room, evidence that one of the Marine's mortar teams have landed their explosive successfully within the enemy camp and the mortar did it job well.

Yet what catches his attention is the Brute standing in the middle of the room. Its big hulking frame is huge, like a grizzly with hands and a much uglier face. Its headgear and the gold armor suggest that this is some sort of high ranking alien, but it doesn't look it. Its brown fur is encrusted with Elite blood and the dark crimson that appears to be its own but it doesn't look to be in pain. Its red eyes are staring at something at its feet as it stares at it with malice.

Mark follows the cold stare and sees some sort of lump that is moving. He registers that the lump is actually a body wrap in a robe, a woman perhaps? He couldn't see, the face is turn away from him. The Brute roars, appearing oblivious to Mark's presence as it raises its large foot, probably to bring it down on the poor person's head.

He has no idea what is going on, but one thing registered. The monster is trying to murder someone; he has a gun and a target that is in sight.

Just as he had done in the past, he raises his SMG, places its stock against his shoulder and fires.

The barrel coughs out a hail of bullets and they fly with purpose as they streak towards their target. A gold shield is activated when the bullet makes contact, but it is enough to catch the monster off guard and forces it to stumble back. Mark doesn't let up, he keeps a stream of lead flowing as he empties his clip, knowing full well that taking down a Brute with small caliber rounds is like trying to disassemble a Battle Cruiser with a wrench.

The red eyes lock onto Mark and it roars one last time and barrels towards him. The Marine hastily steps back, trying to put distance between him and it but its charging with the full force of a tank moving at light speed. It's actually jumping forward like a frog as it closes the distance between them. Its fifty feet away…forty-five…thirty…fifteen!

It is then that his gun runs dry as smoke curls out of the barrel.

_Not now_, Mark thought desperately before remembering basics. There is no time for a reload, he reaches down and takes out his magnum pistol fires with one hand before placing his other beneath the clip to steady his shots. The Magnum spits put larger and heavy bullets; it actually puts more dents in the Brutes armor. The shields glow silver, red, finally a round shatters the invisible energy field. One slug hits it in the neck but it doesn't blink, it growls before releasing one more roar and launches itself into the air and starts to come down, aiming close to Mark's position. He aims for the head and pulls the trigger when he hears a click. Empty!

He watches with upmost horror as the Brute comes down, raising both its fists as it does so like it's an ape or something. More out of desperation than else, Mark activates his helmets flash light and a bright white beam switches on and hits the Brute Square in the eye. It releases a snarl of what could past as confusion before it crashes into the floor.

Mark isn't sure if it'll work, he's not even sure what possess him to do it, but he takes the knife from its shoulder strap and with all his strength he plunges it into the meaty neck of the Brute. It gurgles and Mark is filled with hope that he finally killed the beast.

A giant hand grabs him around the throat and hurls him across to the other side of the room, happening so fast that he doesn't even have time to let out a surprise gasp. His back slams against the wall hard before he slides down to the floor. The knife is still buried in the alien's neck, but it thumps its chest before releasing a enrage wail and charges once more.

Mark looks around, frantic for a weapon, anything before his eyes fall upon the slain body of an Elite in gold armor. Its arm has been severed and the bloody limb is just a foot away, but the energy sword is still in its hand, the fingers still lock around the handle. The Brute is closing the distance again, only a few feet away when Mark acts.

He grabs the hand, pulls back the cold fingers while trying his best not to gag at his grisly work before prying the sword from it hand. He stares at it for a moment dumb struck; there is no button, no trigger, no nothing.

_How does this bloody thing works_! Mark wanted to scream in rage but it's too late, the Brute leaps at him and he actually releases a scream as his hands squeeze the handle in his hand. With a zap like sound that sends sparks of electricity down his arm, the sword is activated, it's see through double blades looking wicked in the dim light.

He looks up and yells once more when the Brute jumps and…stops. Mark has shut his eyes and looked away, as if hoping that this denial of death would grant him a merciful quick death but it's like the whole world came to a standstill. He feels the hot breath of the Brute, just a centimeter from his skin, but other than that there are no other signs of movement. He slowly he twists his head to see what has happened.

The Brute had jump, but in doing so, it had impaled itself on the energy sword. The monster is practically lying on top of Mark since his arms couldn't support his weight, but he notices the hot raged breath is gone and there is nothing, not even a moan of pain coming from the creature. He looks into its eye and just sees empty glass; the thing is dead.

Mark wanted to laugh with joy, but the stench of the dead fur matted being is starting to get to him and he feels if he doesn't get out now he's going to be sick. He wriggles his way out of the beast's embrace, leaving the energy sword which has deactivated and dropped beneath the blubber of the alien. Mark doesn't want it, beside, if the rumors are true, then those things will probably last for a good thirty minutes in a fight before they are depleted of energy with no way of getting them to work again.

He stands up and looks himself over, happy to see that he is whole except for the fact that he his lower body is doused in red blood. He moans a bit as he kneels and with a great jerk he yanks his knifer from the creature's throat, its dead red eye still following his movement. He shivers again as he re-sheaths his blade and turns away.

That's when he sees the bundle on the floor and remembers the whole reason he just started the whole life and death struggle in the first place. He bolts over to the prone figure before going down on his knees and looks the person over.

He is no corpsman, but he has a med kit, maybe he can put a bandage on the wound or maybe he can carry the person out. He gently rolls the figure over till the body is on its back, that's when he looks down before gasping and backs away a little.

He isn't sure what shocks him more; the wound or the fact that the person is an Elite. True enough it's one of them, an alien life from wrap in some colorful gown save for its hands and hooved feet that he can plainly see now that is on its back. Its skin is dark grey, almost black and the talon on its hands looks nasty, a natural weapon. The face however is barely recognizable, the forehead and closed eye looks the same, but the lower face is nothing but an angry blotch of pulp.

The mandibles and jaw bones have been squished to the point that bone, teeth and skin pops out in random places and is hanging out while blue gore slowly drips out. Mark actually looks away and gags before he reaches into his bag, pulls out a bandana and wraps it around his mouth and covers his nose as well.

He glances down and wonders _what just happened? Why was the brute trying to kill this Elite? Weren't they_ friends?

The biggest question now though is he going to help this alien or not? Can he help it or is already too late?

He didn't want to, but he does it anyway.

He doesn't know anything about alien physiques, but he slowly moves his fingers forward. He pushes through the angry blob of flesh that has flowed downward, reminding himself all the while that he is wearing gloves, but that doesn't comfort him the least as he could still feel the squish substance as his fingers makes their way through. Finally he finds the neck and feels around until he identifies the spot on the throat that he believes the pulse is located. There is nothing, not a single movement at all.

Mark looks down and shakes his head, unsure what to do next.

That is when he saw it, movement.

For a moment he though the alien's chest was heaving up and down until he realizes whatever it is, its separate from the Elite's body. It's a small…object wrapped in a bright quilt or blanket that rests in a sort of sling that is clinging onto the alien's frame, almost like some form of carrier.

Curious, he reaches towards it and pulls out the bundle which weighs a little but not too much. He starts to unwrap the thing, curious with what is inside it. Fold by fold, he unwraps the thing until he pulls off the blanket and is beholds a sight he has never seen before.

There, sleeping within the folds of the blanket was an Elite, but not just any Elite, a baby. He really has no idea if he can process this or not. He always has seen Elites as dangerous creatures and nothing else. He never even entertains the thought that these monsters were once babies, children or even teenagers. He has no idea why, but he always thought they just hopped out into existence as cold blooded killers, yet here lies a large controversy of his belief.

The baby is small, almost like a newborn, but he knows its way too big to be considered the same size as human child. It is sleeping peaceful like, almost oblivious to the chaotic world it's surrounded in, a heavy sleeper perhaps? The mandibles are so small and barely visible that it looks like a human mouth but he can just make out the split in the jaw structure and knows its full blooded Elite. It has the hoofs, the claws and the three fingers and, to his embarrassment, he can see that it's a girl, or at least he hopes this is a sign of a girl.

He stares at the small creature for a while before taking in its chest that is slowly rising and falling, signs that it is indeed breathing and thus alive. He stares at it for another minute before leaning back and sinks into deep thoughts, all revolving around one enigma; now what?

Honestly, what is he supposed to do? It's an Elite, an alien, he supposed to kill it, in fact, that looks like the easiest option, just kill it and move on, tell no one what he did and act like it never happen. But he feels deep down that to do that would be considered wrong, that's practically murder, in a war he kills beings that can fight and defend themselves, this infant can't even walk yet. No, killing it is out of the question.

Should he take it to command? What will they do? Put it under armed guard? Locked it in a prison and throw away the key? Or worse, give it to ONI who will no doubt either torture the poor thing or do experiments on it. No, now that he thinks of that, it sounds outright inhumane.

A small cough startles him and he glances down to see the little Elite cough, make some sort of snivel sound before it begins to cry. He just stares at it stupidly, watching as tears slide out of its closed lids and seep down its face, shocked. He didn't know Elites can cry, he didn't know anything about them. The baby slowly begins to bawl and wave it small fists in the air, sounding more and more like a human infant than anything now.

Mark never had any younger siblings before and has no idea what to do, but he does remember some of the mothers of his old neighborhood holding their children and slowly rocks them till they calm down.

He wonders…could he…can he…

He looks down at the baby as it cries before he gingerly reaches down. Treating it as fragile as an egg, he lifts the small infant and holds it against his chest armor, careful not to put let the baby come in contact with the fresh blood that covers it.

The Elite baby finally peel open its eyes, eyes that are the color of amber, it stares at Mark before it starts to cry again. _Now what_, he thought to himself as he gently moves the baby up and down in delicate calming movements. The bawling slows gradually but doesn't stop, every time it looks at Mark it starts to cry anew again.

_Man this kid has lungs_, he thinks to himself as he tries to figure out his next move. _She keeps crying when she looks at me, maybe she knows I'm the enemy, or maybe_…

If this thing is like a human infant, he wonders if it's scared of his appearance, he certainly doesn't look friendly, he probably looks like a robot or something.

_Well here goes nothing_, he thinks to himself.

Carefully he holds the baby in the crook of his right arm before removing his left hand and removes his helmet, goggles, and bandana, placing them to the side as he stares down at the little Elite.

The crying slowly subsides as the small child stares up at him. Carefully, the small alien raises its arm and seems to wave at him.

Mark smiles down at it, her, he remembers, she is actually reminding him of a human child. He slowly wraps his own figures around her tiny digits and gives a soft squeeze. The tiny mouth slowly peels open and he hopes this is some sort of smile.

He freezes when he feels a sharp pain in his knee and panics when it increases. He jumps to his feet and backs away, holding the small alien girl against his side while his other hand takes out and brandishes his knife. Is it the Brute, or did more Coveis sneak in when he wasn't looking?

A small sound draws his attention to the floor and his eyes widen at what he sees. The mauled face Elite, its eyes are open and locked on him, the thing is still alive!

He seriously had an urge to bury his knife hilt deep in the creature's heart, but something stops him. The alien's eyes, it's the color orange, just like the baby.

For the first time in his life, an alien is looking at him, not with hatred, but with something else. Its eyes are deep and thoughtful, but he can see tears forming, from the pain maybe? It's mandibles slowly twitch and he can hear the gasping it's emitting. Mark has seen men and women die on a daily basis, some quick some gruesome, but he knows when death is upon a person; this Elite doesn't have much time.

With its arm shaking, the Elite raise its arm, not in a threatening gesture, but almost like a begging one. Its eyes are full of pleading as it continues to hold up its hand until it finally strikes Mark; there is only one thing that this Elite could want.

He hesitant before reminding himself that the thing is injured, it's hardly a threat and it looks like it's going to die anyway.

He approaches again, blade held loosely in his hand as he squats in front of the alien. However it has lost all interest in him as it now focuses on the baby in his arm. It reaches for it and Mark hands the girl over to it, keeping one hand under the infant for he doubts the dying creature has enough strength to keep the young one held aloft.

The injured Elite quivers, but not out of pain or weariness. It brings the baby close to its eyes as tears continue to fall from its eyes. Slowly it moves the small one closer to it until the Elite presses its forehead against the small cranium of the baby. The girl squirms a bit, but Mark can see its mouth flaring open and knows it isn't scared, this someone whop its familiar with.

The Elite's breathing suddenly picks up and the breathing becomes more and more labored. Tears of what looks like sorrow, despair and even anger fills the alien's stare, but chief among these emotions is some sort of pain much deeper than the ailing wounds.

Slowly Mark's mind begins to register the uniqueness of this Elite. Its robes are more elegant than that of any other Covie he has ever seen, much more colorful and there is an air about the creature that is a bit more…caring and maybe even…motherly…

Could it be, is that why it's so full of anguish?

Mark slowly leans forward until he is a few inches away and, for reasons beyond him, he says, "I'll take care of her."

The alien looks at him with its slit eyes and blinks.

"I'll take care of her," he says again, now affirming his…oath apparently. Why is he saying this, to offer this parent (or what he hopes to be a parent) some comfort that it, or her, child will be taken care of?

The alien blinks at him and he starts to wonder if it even knows what he is saying. Finally it slowly nods, causing some globs of gore to drop as well, and Mark tries his best not to retch at the sight. The Elite offers him one last looks before returning it to her daughter. Slowly, her arm goes weak, forcing Mark to take the girl from her grasp. The small baby whines, but he bobs it up and down in a calming way until the cries stops.

The mother allows some more tears to fall before her eyes go blank and the labored breathing has ceased. He hopes he has the genders correct when he thinks of this Elite as a mother, but what he does know for sure is that this Elite is now dead…and now he has a baby in his arms.

It, no she, squirms in his hands and he gently cradles the extraterrestrial child while thinking, _now what am I going to do_?

**Before anyone starts to question the muteness, remember the story is still developing. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	3. A Situation

**AN: just to let you know, I change Mark's name from Strank to Straka when I realized I already used the surname Strank in one of my other stories.**

* * *

**A Situation**

Freddie pulls the cigarette away from his mouth and releases a puff of smoke as he leans against the wall of the building Mark is clearing. He looks to the center of the encampment and watches as the ODSTs carry away their wounded and dead as the others inspects the remains of the dead alien species. He wonders how Hirako and Seymour are doing; he shivers as he thought of the Gunny and his unbelievable strength.

He hears some scrapping noise behind him and he releases a pent up sigh, "Finally," he moans as he throws the cigarette away, "did you find anything?" he asks without turning around.

"Uh, yeah," he hears Mark reply, "You won't believe what happened."

Freddie smirks, "really?" he turns as he says, "and what would that…"

Slowly the PFC's jaw drops at what he sees.

Mark is standing before him covered in blood. His green armor now appears to be maroon, the wet substance is still dripping from his body and making a small pitter patter sound as the droplets hit the ground. There is a crack on his helmet while his neck and face is slightly purple as bruises slowly develop on the Corporal's skin. His SMG is hanging from his shoulder as it always done, but the barrel is releasing a whirly tendril of smoke, signs of it being overused. Mark looks like he has just been in a fist fight and had lost, badly.

Yet that isn't what catches Freddy's attention, it's the small and oddly brightly colored buddle that is wriggling in his friend's arms that concerns him.

Unconsciously, the Private reaches for his shotgun as he says, "Uh…what is that?"

Mark shakes his head, "something we need to take to Seymour…and maybe Skipper."

"What is it?" Freddie asks again.

"Tell you later," Mark answers again as he walks past his comrade, "now where's Seymour?"

"I think he and Hirako are still on the other side of the camp," Freddie answers as he trails behind, keeping a close eye on the blanket in Mark's hands.

"Let's move then," the Corporal announces before stopping in his tracks as he observes a Drop Shock Trooper a few meters away who steps up next to a wounded Elite lying on the ground. The alien gives a small hiss before the Trooper casually takes out a pistol and shoots it in the head.

The mortar man than turns back around and says, "On second thought, lets skim around the perimeter." Before Freddie can offer his own form of opinion, Mark is already on the move, cradling the buddle closer to him as he goes.

Freddie has to pick up his pace until the two Marines are abreast and he looks back at the moving blanket. He almost staggers when he hears a small whine emerge from the cloth.

"Seriously dude," Freddie says, "what is that?"

"Look, this isn't a story I want to repeat twice ok?" Mark states before slowing, "We'll cross here."

They stop at the corner of the first domed structure and walks down the small path with the Covenant base on one side and the hill on the other. Mark slowly becomes twitchy, especially when a Falcon flies in from overhead. It isn't long before Freddie is clutching his weapon with a death grip and he haunches over, like he is a fugitive on the run.

"This seriously can't be good," he calls out to Mark, "what exactly are you-"

"Later!" Mark shouts back in an agitated and obviously stressed tone.

They strode forward until Mark comes to a stop beside the twelfth building they are passing when he sees a familiar shape not far from them. Emerging from one of the structures is Gunnery Sergeant Seymour with Hirako trailing behind him. Neither of them looks the least bit worried, it appears as if Mark is the only one who has seen some action.

Peeking out from behind the side of the building they are behind, Mark whistles a loud tune that immediately got his teammates attention. Hirako turns with a curious expression while Seymour reaches down to his holstered Magnum, but doesn't pull it out. Mark makes eye contact with them and uses one hand to frantically gesture for them to walk over to his position. Hirako continues to wears a confused expression before she looks to the higher rank Sergeant next to her. Seymour is still for a few more minutes before he lopes over to them, leaving Hirako to follow in his wake, again. Mark wanted to shout at them to hurry up, but keeps his lips sealed.

He has no idea what he is doing nor does he know why he is practically hiding from the UNSC. All that he knows is that he needs to find someone higher up the chain fast so he can dump his little problem unto them.

He feels a moment of guilt at this thought. He promised the Sangheili that he would take care of the little girl, but honestly how is a Marine in a battlefield supposed to do that? He'll be lucky just to keep her alive and besides, it's probably for the best since he doesn't the first thing when it comes to child care, but he's pretty sure keeping them away from a warzone would be a pretty good idea. Hopefully they can put her on a shuttle and...and then what? Drop her off at the nearest orphanage?

Finally, Seymour and Hirako make it behind the building and both looks at the Corporal and Private. Hirako's eyes harden when she notices that Mark is covered in the red liquid that could only possibly be blood.

"Ok," his Sergeant starts off, "What's up boys?"

Before Mark could say anything, Freddie announces, "The Corporal found something, but he's not sharing," and he gestures at the squirming quilt in Mark's hands. Hirako frowns a little at the sight and Seymour's hidden expression didn't exactly fill Mark with confidence.

He suddenly feels very exposed and had a sudden urge to sprint as if he is the one in danger. But these are his brothers and sister in arms, the people who he can trust with his life, so surely he can trust them with what he is about to say…right?

Hirako crosses her arms, "Come on Straka, spill it."

Mark is about to say something when the baby makes another small whine that could probably be heard from ten yards away. Hirako's eyes widen, Freddie stares and Seymour stiffens. These people aren't making the young Corporal feel better.

Finally he just sighs, grabs the top of the blanket and yanks it free, revealing what he was hiding.

Hirako gasps, Freddie jumps two feet away as if he was struck by lightning while Seymour remains motionless, which for some reason makes Mark nervous. He knows from his friend's reaction what it is they are thinking, but he has no idea what is going through the Gunny's mind right now.

Carefully, Hirako walks forward and stares with shock lace in her eyes at what is being held before her.

"Is that…a baby?" she asks in a disbelieving tone.

"Can't be," Freddie mutters, "it just can't be," his eyes suddenly becomes cold, "there's no way those Covies are innocent and caring parents."

Mark sighs as he glances down at the girl he is holding in his arms. Her eyes are dry now, but that left them practically glowing their normal amber color that all but scares him. Her shark like teeth and claws doesn't help either, but he forces himself to remember that she is actually quite harmless and rather cuddly once the initial shock is over.

However, the shock hasn't passed his squad yet, far from it, instead they all appears to be enraged.

Hirako slowly glares before looking at Mark, "Straka, what in the world is this?"

"Hirako, she was alone in the middle of a pile of dead Elites-"

"What happened to the Elites?" Freddie suddenly injects, "did you kill them yourself?"

"No," Mark says as he tries to remain calm, "they were all dead, killed from a mortar round, or at least I think that's what killed most of them, it's either that or the Brute-"

"What Brute?" Hirako suddenly breaks in.

"There was a Brute in there and it was killing the remaining Elites-" Mark started saying before being cut off again.

"Why was a Brute killing the Elite?" Fred demands, "Aren't they allies?"

"That's what I thought," Mark growls as he feels his patience starting to wane, "but-"

"Why didn't it kill the baby?" Hirako questions.

"It was going to kill it and the mother but-"

"There's a mother?" Freddie asks.

"Arrghh!" Mark suddenly cries out, "Yes there was a mother! But she was killed and so would have the baby if I didn't step in and help, ok!"

The Squad falls silent, but soon it is broken when the little alien slowly starts to cry after the sudden shout. Mark's tired frustration quickly fades away as he hefts the baby up further along his chest and gently cradles it, slowly calming the little Elite. He looks up to see his squad, minus the face covered Seymour, gawking at their squad mate.

"What?" Mark suddenly demands, "Haven't you ever seen a baby cry before?"

He is surprised when Freddie growls out, "that's not a baby Mark, that's a Covie."

Mark stares at him, "are you nuts? It's just a kid-"

"Mark," Hirako says in a more restrain voice, but the fire in her eyes betrays her real emotions, "what did you really think was going to happen? Did you honestly think we are going to spare this…thing?"

Mark couldn't believe his ears. They are Marines, they fight as a single unit and trained to be faithful to one another. Yet here he is, looking to his brother and sister for help and they aren't doing a thing but glare and curse. Honestly Mark didn't think this was going to happen, he thought, he hoped, that they would see things his ways, but that's obviously not the case.

He glances at the Gunny, "Sarge, what do you think?"

Immediately, Seymour shakes his head. Mark suddenly feels his stomach drop. Once the Gunny makes a decision, everyone follows, and this latest decision feels like he just gave a verdict.

Hirako must have seen the panic in his eyes and sighs as she rubs her eyes, "Mark, do you honestly think we are going to take that thing with us?"

"It'll eat us in our sleep," Freddie adds in.

"It," Mark stresses, "is a she and she," he nods down at the Sangheili who is now resting her head against his chest, "isn't dangerous, how do you think she will be able to slice us with an energy sword?"

"So what _are_ you thinking?" Hirako demands, "raise it? Keep it as a pet?"

"I don't know," Mark responds, "I just couldn't leave it back there."

"Why not?"

Mark gapes at her, "are you serious?" he demands before hefting up the Sangheili, "she's completely helpless, I can't even imagine leaving her in a place like this."

"Then give her to the Troopers."

Mark shudders at the suggestion, "they would sooner kill her than take her prisoner."

"Exactly."

Mark stares at his Sergeant, unsure if he just her correctly.

"What?"

He gets his answer when he hears a click. He glances in the indicated direction to see Seymour holding his magnum pistol in his hand, all the while his gaze never wavers as they watch the child.

Mark instantly backs away, only to have his back hit the wall of the building behind him.

"No," he mutters before looking up and declaring, "No, you're not going to kill her."

"Mark be reasonable-"

"Since when has killing kids ever been seen as reasonable?" Mark demands.

"Since the Covies glass our own kids without a second thought," Freddie answers with cold fury.

Mark shakes his head, this couldn't be happening, "so that justifies that we should act the same?"

"Yeah," Freddie continues, "why not?"

"I'll tell you why not," Mark says as he squares his shoulders, "if we stoop as low as killing children then how much further down the ladder will we go? How long until we start devolving?"

"This is war Mark," Hirako says, "people die all the time."

"I know, sarge," he says in disgust, "but we should just kill the enemy and nothing more."

"The enemy is in your hands, Corporal," Hirako said sharply, "Who knows, if we let that thing grow, it won't care about anything, it'll just be another killing machine."

"That's not true, you don't know that," Mark claims, "Look," he takes this time to analyze each of his comrade's faces, "I just don't want to do something that will fill us with regret for the rest of our lives."

"We won't have any lives or future to look forward to unless we kill that thing," Freddie states in a loud voice before turning to Seymour, "what's the play Gunny?"

In answer, the Gunnery Sergeant points his pistol at Mark before dipping it down towards the floor, a silent order.

"Gunny," Mark tries again, "please."

Seymour repeats the action.

Mark looks down at the girl in his hands as shame and anger fills him. She is so small, so innocent, this isn't right and he knows it. The Sangheili stares back up at him; her small amber eyes are so full of life, her little hands waves at him while her mandibles come together forming that smile like expression. Despite the situation, Mark couldn't help but smile at the child, he than realize this is the first time he smiled in a long time, a genuine smile. He hears the click again and his happy expression gave way to one of remorse. After tonight, it's going to take a lot of effort to get him to grin again.

Finally he sighs and does as ordered. He slowly takes a step forward, pause for a second to look into Seymour once more in an attempt to plea again, but all he saw is the cock and lock weapon aiming at the bundle. There is nothing to stop the Gunny when he is determined.

Mark looks down in defeat as he kneels and carefully places the baby on the cold ground, one last act of kindness before she is sent off to oblivion. He remembers his grandmother once telling him it is her belief that all children go to Heaven because they are too young to understand salvation, because God loves them. He dearly hopes and prays that God's love will also stretch out to this child.

He is withdrawing his hands when the Sangheili tiny clawed ones grapples onto his gloves. He feels a small pinch on his skin, but knew the child didn't mean to do any deliberate harm.

It's all he can do to look into her blazing warm eyes once more as she releases a sound that can only be described as a squeak. Mark forces a smile onto his face as he reaches down and strokes the child's forehead. She has calmed since the destruction that had occurred earlier, but now he wonders if it was better that she should have died then, when he didn't know her, then to die now after he had created…a form of bond that was made after ensuring the girl's mother that he would care or her.

It looks like he is going to break that promise.

He looks away and stands up, disentangling his hand from hers. He hears her whimper in protest, but he walks away leaving her on the ground. Seymour then steps forward till the Sangheili is at the base of his foot. She looks up at the near two ton man as he holds his pistol out and it hovers from above by about two feet. The girl then smiles at him.

This is suddenly too much for Mark as he turns away and covers his face with one hand. He can't believe he is feeling this way, honestly he only met the kid half an hour ago. Now he feels devastating pain erupt in his chest, something about the child smiling at the face of her executioner, unaware that she is going to die, is a kind of cruelty that suddenly became too much for him.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, he can't tell if it's Freddie or Hirako, but he shrugs it off. He doesn't want comfort at the moment, not from them, not from the ones who condemn a child to death.

He realizes a few seconds have gone by. He closes his eyes and is tempted to cover his ears, he doesn't want to hear the blast, he doesn't want to see, he doesn't want to be here, he suddenly has an urge to run, to leave this planet and never return.

A few more seconds draws by. Will it be a fast and painless shot in the head? Will it be a slow gut wrenching pain as she is shot in the gut? Will she make a sound when the bullet hits? He shudders and nearly screams in agony himself at the mental image that are being drawn in his head; the Sangheili lying on the floor, blood oozing out of the side of her head while her brains litters the floor, ember eyes that are bleak as they gaze at him. He shudders and actually feels his eyes starting to burn.

However, a realization strikes; a full minute must have gone by and there hasn't been a single shot fired.

The anxiety and unknown is killing him, he doesn't want to look back only to watch as Seymour fires his weapon, but he has to know what is going on. Slowly, he lowers his hand and glances over his shoulder.

Everything is exactly the same as it was before. Seymour is standing over the child, the hammer on the Magnum is pulled fully back while its barrel is solely aimed at the Sangheili's little head, yet she still has that smile on her face. Hirako and Freddie are watching as well, arms by their sides as nobody moves, afraid that they will miss something. It's as if the whole world has come to a stop and is now holding its breath to see what the Gunny is going to do next.

Mark has the urge to run the small half foot distance between him and the Sergeant and push him out of the way, but he doesn't dare move. He tries to see what the Gunny is thinking, but he is as still as stone, eyes covered by goggles, stance strong and hands steady. He doesn't look like a injured soldier, now he is a picture of a Marine displaying his strength, but despite all the inner might, Mark is starting to wonder if the Gunny has it in him to pull the trigger.

Than the unexpected happen, so small and quick Mark wonders if he had seen it at all. Seymour's hand quivers slightly, bringing the sights on the gun out of line with its target by a half inch before it returned to it's original position.

Slowly, the pistol is pulled back and holstered again. Mark, Hirako and Freddie, stares with utter shock at what they have just witness, their Gunny, the scourge of the Covenant, the strong monster of the Marine Corps; is sparing the life of a Covenant soldier.

_No, not a soldier_, Mark corrects himself, _a baby_.

With his skin covered from head to toe along with his eyes, it's hard to see what the man is thinking. But when he turns away from the child on the floor, Mark knew what the gesture meant.

Quick as a flash, Mark rushes forward and scoops up the Sangheili before retreating back to a safe distance. The Sangheili squeaks again as she starts nuzzling into Mark's chest, as if she knew how close to death she had been and is now showing a whole new kind of affection.

Mark couldn't help but laugh out of pure relief before looking at the Gunny's back. He doesn't know what prompt the Marine to spare her, but Mark is, for some reason, eternally grateful for it.

"Thank you sir," Mark says softly, unsure if Seymour had heard him. However, when he sees the Gunny look over his shoulder and at Mark, before glancing down at the baby, he knew the Sarge heard.

Hirako still looks utterly shellshock as she walks forward and asks, "what now sir?"

Seymour is completely still for what feels like minutes until he finally giving orders through his hand gestures.

_Head back to Delta Company and gives field report_… he pauses for a few seconds before signing, _avoid the Troopers._

Everyone eyes are wide. Does this mean they are bringing the Sangheili with them?

"B-b-but sir," Freddie stutters, "what about the split lip?"

Mark has used that term hundreds of time before, but now he feels like giving Freddie a real split lip if he ever says anything along those lines again.

Seymour is quiet before signaling, _Head back to Delta Company_. With that he starts to stride with the occasional limp towards the hill where their Spade rests on the other side.

Hirako follows after the Gunny, but not before throwing a concerned look at Mark as she takes her leave. He stares after her for a while before Freddie walks up next to him.

Freddie stares at the little alien as it wriggles its hand, flaps its mandibles and occasionally cuddles with Mark, and all the while the man wears a scowl.

Mark isn't sure what to say, he never seen his friend act like this and he is starting to grow a little concern.

Exhaling once, Freddie looks Mark in the eye and says, "If that thing makes one wrong move, I'm blowing it away."

Mark couldn't believe what he has just heard, but before he could try and put Freddie's mind at ease, the young man has slowly turned and is now walking away.

The lone Marine sighs to himself as he lifts the Sangheili up until they are eye to eye and he asks, "What am I going to do with you?"

She puts her mandibles together in a grin like fashion.

Mark shakes his head, unsure if that could be considered an answer before he puts the alien child against his chest and rushes to catch up with his departing squad mates.

* * *

Va'lorn's eyes widen when Bree puts her stylus down as she stands and stretches.

"Wait," Va'lorn says desperately, "that can't be it, why did Seymour spare you? Were you accepted by the humans that easily? Didn't you stay with them? What are you doing here?"

Instead of answering, Bree smiles at him before shaking her head. It takes a moment for him to understand, but Va'lorn realizes he has just been blabbering away like a idiotic youngling. He couldn't help it; intrigued doesn't even come close to describing how he is feeling at the moment. He was raised with the belief that the humans are mindless destroyers, yet seeing things from Bree's point of view is so mystifying and strange.

Finally the female twirl her fingers into various shapes and positions, making Va'lorn wish he could know what it is she is saying.

He just stares at her, hoping she would know that he couldn't understand what it was she was trying to tell him.

Bree gestures to the window and the young warrior looks outside. Two of the suns have set while the third, but least bright of the stars, remains in the sky, the Sangheili time for the sleeping period.

Seeing understanding in Va'lorn's eyes, Bree slowly makes her way to the hallway, but pauses to look at him and gestures that he should follow. Curious, the Minor stands and follows her. She leads him down the short corridor before pointing out one room that is position parallel to her own.

He moves forward and peeks inside only to find the guest room that he already inspected earlier. It only has one simple bed, one window, a small chest for his few possessions and a chair. He sees no threat here so he glances over his shoulder at the female, raising an eye ridge in question.

She signs towards the room before ending with a hand on his shoulder. This was to be his room.

He frowns as he ponders the situation, was a guard supposed to have his own room? In the past cycle he was being treated more like a guest than a protective guardian and that was really causing him to reconsider his past actions. However when he thinks about it he suppose it makes sense, no Sangheili could remain awake for hours on end and it would be irresponsible of him to be weak when his charge could be in a dangerous situation. He hopes it will be acceptable for him to leave her alone for the night, besides, should anything happen he'll just be a few steps away. Hopefully though, a few seconds is all that an assassin needs to slit a throat.

He shudders at the grim logic, but he becomes absolutely still when he feels a hand being placed lightly against his skin. He looks to see that Bree has her hand on his own and now was starring at him with fire in her eyes. He then realizes the humans, these Marines, didn't just teach her how to survive, they taught her how to defend herself. There are female warriors, but he has never met one in the field, in fact he was taught that by all means the males are the superior gender of the Sangheilis. Yet there is a look in Bree's eyes that makes him certain that she knows how to fight and she certainly doesn't want to be treated like a weakling.

Slowly he bows his head and says, "Thank you Bree."

Her hard eyes soften before she gives him her familiar grin and makes a gesture that he is sure means "good night."

He lowers his head in agreement to her silent statement. He turns to inspect his new room when she suddenly grasps his arm, and from the way her nails are digging into his flesh, there is an important reason.

He looks at her once more and sees her serious eyes as she points out the window. At first he thought she is trying to get him to see something in the outdoors, but than her fingers smoothen out and is directing his attention to the bottom of the space. It is then that he sees some sort of device attached to the wall, a long brown cube with something like a wire sticking out and stretching across the window's span. Nobody can open the window without hitting and snapping the taught line.

He looks to the female and asks, "Are you speaking of the wire?"

She nods, points at it again and shakes her head violently.

He tilts his head in the sign of confusion. She repeats the sign. Finally she holds her hand towards the device before swatting at her limb with the other hand and shakes herhead once more.

"You don't want me to touch the device?" he asks.

She nods.

"Will you tell me why?"

She makes rapid gestures that leave him even more baffled than before. Finally she shakes her head before indicating more sternly that he is not to touch the mechanism. That isn't really much of an explanation but he finally nods in agreement, he isn't going to interfere with the object.

Clearly happy with his answer, she grins and does something else that just about stops his hearts. She leans forward and embraces him. It only lasted half a second before she pulls back and signs that she is leaving to rest. She left with her usual grin and leaves Va'lorn in the room, his mandibles slightly hanging open, completely shock by what has just occurred.

A moment after Bree departed, he finally return to his sense and shakes his head in puzzlement and holds a hand to his spinning head.

"This is defiantly no normal female," he mummers to himself as he slowly starts to strip off his armor in preparation for the sleeping cycle, deciding to wake up early in the morning and ask the female to continue her story.


	4. A Proposition

**A Proposition**

The door slides open, allowing the silent figure to enter the bedroom unannounced.

Slowly, the person creeps closer to the bed before stopping to observe the female lying on it. Morning is almost over and she has yet to awaken, which could prove to be dangerous.

Having no real practice in this field, the person reaches out with his clawed hand and almost grasps her shoulder. The blankets suddenly explodes as the female twists around and throw the covers at him. Shock, he swipes the fabrics out of the way, but in that tiny span of time, he feels something slam into his knee. Tears appear in his eyes as he goes down before he sees two sharp fingers shooting out and digs into his neck. He chokes as he feels the sharp nails threaten to carve out his windpipe when he finally sputters out a few words.

"Wait," Va'lorn cries out before gaging.

Instantly Bree removes her hand and rolls off the bed, a look of shock plastered to her face.

Va'lorn crumples down to the floor as he massages his tormented neck while trying to inspect his knee at the same time. He has been trained since birth to fight, but he has never been taken down so effectively with such a few yet effective strikes, from a female no less.

He senses Bree is at his side as she places a hand on his shoulder while she lowers herself to the floor as well. She makes rapid hand movements in an attempt to communicate, he has no idea what she is saying, but there is only one thing that someone who is as caring as her is trying to say.

"I'm…alright," he finally gasps, "you…just…surprised me."

Out of the corner of his eye he sees her smirking at his words, but then her hands travels downwards before they started flowing over his knee. He hisses at the momentarily pain, but she has a gentle touch and she appears more focus on checking his body over rather than to restart the fight.

With his breathing restored and her checking over his leg, he is able to speak.

"The morning unit is almost over Bree," he informs her, "I grew concerned when you didn't wake."

She pauses in her hand movement to look up at him and shrugs in response. He is familiar with the body language, but to see a female performing it is surreal for him.

"I also wondered…well that is if you have any…" he trails off, unsure with what to say.

She looks up at him with a questioning look in her eye. He knows that she doesn't understand, but he doesn't wish to say anything else, he already feels like an insolent child for stuttering.

After a moment of silence she sighs in what could pass for aggravation. She stands and walks around her bed before picking up her drawing pad and stylus. She walks back to him while writing on the parchment, it isn't until she is standing in front of him does she lower the pad and reveal what she wrote.

'Let go of your pride and speak Soldier.'

This causes him to raise an eye ridge. Let go of his pride? Soldier? Who is she to command him, and how dare she call him a soldier, he is a warrior, not some dirt eating grunt.

With that set clearly in his mind, he looks up to say so, but then Bree moves in until they are face to face and growls. The rumble was loud enough to echo in the room and the show of her razor teeth causes him to hesitate. However all he sees are her eyes; and the fire that they hold. This is no ordinary female, she is no doubt a veteran, the threat in her orbs and the combat maneuvers she has used on him proves that on their own. His Keep brothers and Lord would laugh at him, but he shamefully bows his head in submission. This female is a senior warrior, one that he has to show respect and virtue to, especially now when he has just openly tried to defy her commands.

He freezes however when he feels her hand on his back. He looks up to see her giving him a small smile. She then gestures for him to rise, which he confusingly does so. Doesn't she know that he has submitted to her and that he needs to show complete devotion to her? Surely she must have, she has been among her people long enough to know of their traditions, so why does she have him stand like an equal?

She frowns slightly when she sees him trying to keep some weight off his injured leg. She makes a simple hand gesture and he knows there only one thing she could be trying to say.

'Sorry.'

He nods to her before saying, "it is fine Bree," he looks away, "it was…rather rude of me to enter your room without permission."

She sighs in return before writing.

'It's my fault really; I shouldn't have slept so late'.

She gives a smile before writing her next response, rather slowly, 'I tend to sleep hard after the retelling of my story.'

Va'lorn is suddenly filled with guilt upon realizing he has in some way affected Bree when she told him parts of her life.

"I am sorry," he says, earning him an odd look from her, "I had no idea asking you to share your tale would bring you pain."

She suddenly smiles at him before shaking her head slowly. She quickly writes down another sentence.

'Actually it gives me unexpected joy to finally tell someone of my upbringings and more importantly, to tell them about my family, about my father.'

Va'lorn frowns a bit, the idea of a human being friendly, being a parent, is almost impossible to imagine.

She writes again.

'You want to hear what happened next don't you?'

True, this is what he wanted, but he shakes his head, "we should eat first Bree, so that you can…attend to…your…duties," he stumbles over the words in desperation to which would best fit his sentence considering he has no idea what it is she does for a living aside from advising her elders and fixing machinery.

She grins and he knew she would be laughing at him if she could. Instead, she writes down, 'I can tell the anxiety is killing you.'

Is that a threat? Not a direct one but s subtle way of warning him of his death? No, that can't be right, he is detecting nothing but kindness and a bit of warmth from Bree, nothing to suggest she means him harm.

She performs the strange gesture of making her eyes roll in her socket as she glances to the heavens before writing, 'Why don't I just tell you what happened after they found me?'

Before he could say a thing, she is already writing, standing by his side so that he can see her pad as she scribbles runes onto the parchment.

'They got me out without anyone seeing us, then we were returning to their outpost in the hills.'

* * *

"How about…Ashely?"

Silence is the only answer he receives.

"Maria?" he offers next.

Quiet.

"Josephine?"

Nothing.

"Fredlina," he suggests.

"That's not even a name," Freddie finally grumbles from the driver's seat.

"Just checking to see of you are listening," Mark replies.

Freddie releases something that sounds close to a growl before becoming silent once more. They are driving, at a much slower rate, back to their comrades on the hill. Despite Mark's attempts at lightening the mood, they are all sitting in puddles of their own sweat as they wonder how this is going to play out. There is no way they can hide the baby from their superiors, not without performing some suspicious activities. They have to present this issue to the Major and sees what he does. In the back of their minds, they are all wondering if they will get in trouble for bringing back the little Elite. Would they be arrested, confided, or shot; what's the penalty for helping out a baby alien?

Mark tries to occupy his troubled brain by trying to come up with names for the Elite, there's really no point in just constantly calling her baby is there? He tries to pull the others out of their own dark clouds, but nobody speaks.

Freddie is driving them back, but they are going at a much slower speed due to Mark's insistence, he didn't want to risk the chance of losing the bundle he is holding when they hit a bump. Hirako is sitting in the passenger seat, looking from Freddie, to Mark and the baby, before finally looking to Seymour than repeats the process. Seymour is as stoic as ever while he scans the road, his hand resting on the machine gun that is resting on top of the Spade's cab. However there is something different about his posture, is it possible that he is simply shock at what he has done? This is probably the biggest trouble the giant man has ever gotten himself into, that is considering if they are in trouble.

Mark is leaning against the cab, sitting right next to Seymour's leg as he cradles the tiny child. His knees are brought up to his chest as he tries to use his body to shelter the little being from the cold gale that they would usually come across. The baby however has fallen asleep again, lulled away by the vehicle's movement most likely. He notes how she seems to lean into him despite the blood coated armor he is wearing; perhaps she is just used to the sight and the feel of tough stained metal. The thought causes him to shiver.

He remembers the baby's mother and how loving she has handled her child, so maybe she didn't grow up in a violent home, but still he's going to need to come up with a better argument to ensure the child's safety. Especially when he knows full well this is an argument he needs to take up with grouchy blood thirsty Major Kerr. He has no idea what he is going to negotiate for, but he is able to narrow it down to just making sure that the kid will be comfortable and safe. But who can provide her with that? ONI would sooner operate on her than care for her wellbeing and the UNSC just might throw her in a brig. What can they do, what can he do?

He shivers before asking, "What about-"

"No," Freddie suddenly interrupts.

"No what?"

"Don't say anything," Freddie says, eyes still glued to the road, "we're getting rid of that thing as soon as possible, so don't get all cuddly with it, alright?"

Mark doesn't say a thing for a while, they went a couple of more meters before he says, "it's just weird to call her baby, or kid, I just thought she needs a name, that's all."

"Well don't give her a human name," continues the driver.

Mark grins as he tries to joke, "Well alright, do you happen to know any good Elite names then?"

Hirako snorts while Freddie fumes before shouting, "I just don't care ok? Call her Rex, Fido, Glen, Joey, name her after the freaking wind for all I care," he falls into a murmuring fit as the air blows against his face as he picks up the speed a little.

After the wind…Mark really has no other idea, and besides, maybe this will annoy Freddie some more.

"How about Bree then?"

"Call her whatever you want," Freddie snarls, "it's her name, not mine."

Hirako smiles gently as they went back between one another and not for the first time Mark wonders what goes on in Seymour's head and what he thinks of the baby's name. There is really no reaction, but he feels Bree is a good one, nice and subtle, yet energetic, he hopes this will suit her well…if she lives long enough to hear and understand her name.

"We're getting close," Hirako suddenly voices as she tenses and looks to Mark, "I hope you know what you're doing Straka."

Mark tries to hide his nervousness by saying, "Me? You're my Sergeant; I'm going to tell them the whole thing was your idea."

Hirako murmurs some well chosen words to this, but before she finishes, they make a turn and find themselves back in the motor pool area. The small armada of Warthogs are still there, unmark and battle ready. The Engineers linger around the vehicles, but this time they are more serious as they scan the land. The night belongs to stealth Elites who are willing to slit the throat of any unlucky full that falls asleep in an unprotected area.

The sight of his fellow Marines, shaky and with their weapons held at the ready doesn't reassure him at all.

The Spade squeaks a little as it rolls to a halt. Mark feels his heart beat faster when he sees an engineer approaching, but before he got more than ten feet away, Seymour waves him off. The Marine gives the Sergeant an odd look, but shrugs and shuffles back to his original position.

Mark breathes a sigh of relief and was about to thank Seymour, but he already jumped to the floor and starts walking to the hill. His squad mates follow as well, leaving Mark alone in the bed of the vehicle.

He looks down to make sure the small child is sleeping comfortably before grabbing one end of the blanket and gentle covers Bree's face.

Bree…now that he thinks about it, it does sound like a good name for the Elite.

He gulps again before hopping off the back and follows after his team. Whether they did it on purpose or it was a coincidence, they take a path that bypasses any and all Engineers. Once they pass a sentry guard and Mark just about had a heart attack when the person looks at him. He just nods and Mark nods back, but he feels perspiration starting to break out on his skin as he picks up his pace.

At first he thought the change in altitude and the escalating steps would wake Bree, but the kid sleeps through it rather nicely. He is sure he heard her yawn at one point, but she didn't stir, so he assumes she is still asleep.

Finally the moment of truth arrives as they rise over the crest and finds themselves at their mortar pit. They freeze at what they see. The small encampment has been decimated, their mortar tubes have been twisted and melted, the small command tent they had set up is burning and on the air they can smell the stench of burning flesh and they can hear someone's faint cries on the wind.

All hopes of keeping the small Elite safe dies slowly and in agony within Mark's chest as he unconsciously brings the infant closer to his body.

"What now," he whispers to himself.

"Dump it and hope someone else can take care of it?" Freddie suggests.

"No."

"Straka," Hirako starts, "Freddie may be onto something, I mean, look at the camp-"

"Well we all know it wasn't Bree who did it now was it?" Mark demands.

"We'll be walking into a blood bath if you bring that thing into camp," Hirako argues, "the Major will no doubt be in a fit of rage, he'll kill it without even blinking an eye."

"It wouldn't hurt to try though now will it?" Mark attempts to counter.

Hirako opens her mouth to open when Seymour steps in front of them. He then makes rapid gestures.

'Deep breathe, minds set, eyes forward, advance.'

For a man of few words, Mark feels like Seymour is the smartest guy on the planet at the moment. He releases a angry exhale, breathes in more oxygen and look to what's left of the camp.

"Alright," he breathes, "here we go."

"Are you out of your mind?" Freddie demands, but Mark is already walking forward.

With each step, dread starts to build along with the anxiety as he hopes and prays that this will all end well, if not for him than at the very least Bree's safety. They walk pass battle weary Marine, all searching for targets, all with glaze of anger and killing instincts bright in their eyes. Mark double checks to make sure the cloth is still hiding Bree.

The command tent has been burned down, along with a few chard remains lying in the ash. Mark looks around for the Major, but the only office he sees is his Captain, Anthony, who is standing close by, organizing a squad of Marines as he does so.

Mark didn't want to bring the Skipper into this, he considers him to be a great guy and he doesn't want to get him in trouble. Besides, the fewer who knows about Bree, the better, but there's no other choice.

Finally, the Corporal walks up to the Captain, waits until he is finished with the squadron of Marines before moving forward.

"Excuse me sir," he says cautiously.

The Captain turns to Mark and his eyes widen.

"Whoa Straka," he says as he takes in his form, "What happened to you?"

"Well sir, you see-"

Mark is interrupted when Hirako steps in, "Honestly sir, I think this is an issue that needs to be discussed in private."

The Skipper raises an eyebrow, but when he sees how serious Hirako looks, Seymour slightly bent frame, the worry in Marks eyes, and Freddie's angry expression, he figures this must be something serious.

"Alright," he says and waves at them "follow me."

He already turns, but Mark presses forward, "Sir, Major Kerr needs to hear this too."

Skipper breathes a deep sigh and looks at Mark before saying, "I'm afraid Kerr isn't here Corporal."

"Well where is he?" Freddie impatiently demanded.

Mark knows Freddie would have been in a lot of trouble for talking like that to a superiors rank, but Skipper lets it slide as he jerks a thumb in a certain direction, "he's over there."

Mark looks and shivers when he sees that Skipper is pointing at the blacken corpse that has been pulled from the ashes of the ruined tent. He pulls his gaze away as they follow Skipper a few feet away from the destroyed outpost. They walk a good fifteen yards away before they come upon a small circle of boulders.

"I know it ain't five star," Anthony comments as he sits heavily on one of the large stones, "but it's better than standing," he waves at them to take a seat as well.

Mark feels exhausted as he lowers himself onto one of the rocks, it isn't until now that he realizes how taxed his body has been in the past few hours; surviving a crazy car ride, a blood drunk Brute, another crazed journey and now all the anxiety and blood racing effects are catching up to him. Freddie and Hirako settles in as well, only Seymour remains standing as he scans the horizon, out of instinct or because he doesn't want to wish to take apart of the conversation.

"So," the Captain says, "With Kerr gone, I'm now number one, so you only have a minute or two to debrief."

Hirako takes a deep breath before leaning forward, "Well, the Troopers had the whole thing clear and there was really no incident."

Skipper raises an eyebrow, "this doesn't sound like a normal report Sergeant."

"I know," she replies before swiping a hand in Mark's direction, "Straka here has an issue that I know will take up a bulk of your time."

Mark feels the blood drain from his face when Tony looks to Mark, "alright, Straka, care to share?"

"Um…" all courage that Mark has summoned dies as he stares at the Captain and tries his best not to look the man in the eye.

"Oh for the love of…" Freddie mummers something before looking up and says, "Just show him what you have in the blanket; that should suffice."

Skipper lowers his eyes towards the bulge with an interested look. There is no point in prolonging it any longer; a quick flick of the cloth is truly the only way of making this any quicker. With a sense of finality, Mark whips the blanket off and held the little girl out a little, bathing her in the limited light the stars are offering.

Bree is sleeping as if all is well, which is the complete opposite in Anthony's case.

There is a thud as he falls backwards and lays there as he stares up at Mark with stun eyes. After a few moments, his round eyes narrow and he slowly gets back unto his feet, never taking his eyes off the bundle, or the hand off his sidearm.

"What is that?" he finally questions.

"Uh…" Mark starts off hesitantly before bringing Bree back to his chest, "it's a baby."

"Well I can see that," Anthony states with caution in his eyes as he slowly approaches, "but where did it come from?"

Mark shrugs, "I found her at the camp and…well…sir I couldn't just leave her there…"

He stares down at the child for a couple of more seconds before asking, "Who else knows about this?"

Mark exhales, "just us," he nods his head to his squad.

Anthony suddenly swirls on Hirako and says, "and you decided to bring it here?" he waves back at the partially destroyed camp, "now of all times?"

Hirako holds up her hands as if in defense, "It wasn't my idea Skip, it was Seymour's call."

Now Anthony truly looks stun, the thought of this whole thing being Seymour's idea is more inexplicable than the thought of there being such things as the Covenant having babies. He looks to the Gunny in question, but with his face covered and stiff posture there is no way of knowing what he is thinking.

Anthony sighs and rubs his eyes as he mummers, "we don't have time for this."

Time for what? Deciding with what to do with Bree, the shift of power among the ranks, or the threat of another attack?

Finally he looks at Mark and demands, "If I tell you to chuck that thing over the ridge right now, would you do it?"

Mark instantly retreated a few steps away from the Captain.

"I guess that's a no," Anthony sighs as he starts pacing, rubbing his head over and over. The squad watches in silence, rarely making a sound, save for Bree whenever she shifts her sleeping position or releases a small sleepy exhale.

Finally he places a weary hand on his young weathered face, "I can't think at the moment," he falls silent again as he thinks for another minute.

He turns to Mark and says, "Can you keep an eye on it until morning, by then this mess should be settled at least to some degree, then I want the whole story."

Mark isn't sure of this is bad or great news, it's as if he is prolonging the coming judgment, but he suppose this is better than nothing.

* * *

"Alright, for once the Split lip came through for us."

"If you are referring to the fact that we are being kept like prisoners," Hirako states, "then I concur."

"I'm referring to the fact that we are in a tent and have some actual cots," Freddie says as he lowers himself onto the foldable cloth, "sure beats the ground," he glances to his right, "right Gunny?"

Seymour is standing at the entrance of the tent, watching the flap and keeping to himself as usual. He bluntly ignored Freddie's question.

"See," Freddie says, "he agrees."

Mark rolls his eyes as he lies on his own little bed. He then looks down at Bree who is snuggled against his clean Marine green T-shirt. After waiting an additional ten minutes for the small tent to be constructed and then secretly smuggling her back within the camp perimeter without her being seen, he finally allows himself to drop his guard. As ironic as it is, the very people who he fears would kill the little alien is now protecting her, which is completely unknown to them. This is supposed to be the Skipper's tent, but he insisted that the Mortar team plus Gunnery Sergeant Seymour use it, seeing as he is too busy running around trying to reorganize the camp.

Mark honestly has no objections; he would have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the cot, but for some reason he is compelled to keep his eyes on Bree, as if he is afraid that she would be taken from him.

After a couple of seconds, Freddie obviously clocks out when his snoring fills the tent. Bree stirs a bit, but aside from that, she remains asleep. Mark keeps his arms wrap around her and holds her tightly, she is just barely larger than the palm of his hand. He chuckles as he watches the little Elite rest.

"What's up?"

He glances towards the voice and meets the eyes of Hirako as she lays awake as well. He suddenly wonders if she is watching Bree as well, but not out of the care that Mark has for the little alien.

"Just thinking," he tells her as he looks back at Bree, "she is really small, yet the Elites are so freaking huge."

She laughs as well and they soon fall silent as they observe Bree, with the occasional sound of Marines passing by and Freddie's sleeping.

"Why do you think she is here?" Hirako suddenly asks, "Her and…her family."

He gives Hirako a curious look; they are talking about this now?

He shrugs and says, "who knows, maybe her father was a general and his wife came with him," he falls silent as he muses with the idea, "ever heard of the battle of Mars? 2345?"

"Yeah," Hirako says.

"The UNSC was so sure they could beat that small rebel faction that they invited their families to come and watch from the decks of Frigates, which were shot down later on," he watches Bree as he gently runs a finger alongside her head, "maybe that's what happen, maybe they thought this would be a easy win but it didn't turn out so good."

"That would make sense," reasons Hirako, "but what about the Brute? They have always been aggressive, think it just lost it temper and lashed out at them."

"I see no reason why that would have happened," Mark says, "but I guess this is the best guess we're able to come up with."

"Yeah…" his Sergeant is silent before saying, "it's sort of weird isn't it?"

"What's weird?"

"Talking about the Elite's parents as if we actually cared," she bluntly says.

"Well I do," Mark declares, surprising himself slightly.

Hirako raises an eyebrow, "Getting a little semimetal towards the enemy Straka? Afraid of killing more 'loving' parents?"

Mark shivers at the thought, "No…you just weren't there."

"Weren't there for what?" she asks.

"Her mother or at least I think it was her mother," Mark starts out slowly, "she was dying and she knew it. Yet in those final moment she didn't waste that time to give me hateful glares, instead she spent it holding Bree," he unconsciously brushes the tiny baby as he speaks, "and I saw the tears. They may hate us, they may want us all dead…but I can't stop thinking of her and of the care and love she saved for Bree."

He sighs, "We may be at war and can be as different as can be, but maybe a love of a mother is more universal than we thought." He forces a laugh, "or maybe I am getting a little sentimental, what do you think?"

He looks at Hirako again, but her back is to him. He thought he heard her sniffle, but he stayed silent, not sure of what to say or what to do. Finally he just make himself as comfortable a she could, rest a protective hand on Bree and slowly shuts his eyes, with the sound of commanders barking orders to the grunts in the back ground.


	5. A Plan

**A Plan**

Va'lorn completed his perimeter check…again.

He sighs as he fiddles with his rifle, he knows he shouldn't want trouble, but he had hoped that the life of a warrior would be more...exciting.

He returns to looking around at his surroundings. Bree's home is situated on top of an isolated hill, allowing them to see all around and as far as the eye can see. In the distance he can partially make out the shape of the Mosali Keep, a mere haze on the horizon. He can also see a nearby village where their rooftops poke up into the sky. There are a few trees set up around them and he knows there is a stream not too far away, but aside from that, the grassy plain is barren of all but the smallest of trees. There is a field not too far away where the Unggoy used to plow and produce tuber crops. Now it is empty, uncultivated because it is below the statues of a warrior to bend over and do servant's work.

Va'lorn is saddened by the fact that his people are so unwilling to work, to serve their community. Then again, he for one doesn't wish to go and work for hours on end doing such meager work. To do such a thing is unheard of, especially for the proud and respectful Sangheili race.

Yet Bree seems to have no problems when it comes to working.

He glances behind him and sure enough he sees Bree kneeling among the flowers that have been planted close to her home. She is dipping her hands into a nearby bucket and brings out a handful of water which she then sprinkles upon the multicolored florets. The smell that enters the air tastes sweet and lulls his mind into a semiconscious state, but he does his best to shake this off.

He tries to focus on his work, but that's another issue that the female has thrown him off with. He isn't doing anything at all, just standing there, watching while his charge is bending down tending to the needs of her plants. She is doing more work than he is and for some reason it makes him feel slightly awkward.

Should he offer her his assistance? Is he willing to let his pride go? The feeling of watching Bree do all the work while he does nothing is a strong guilty one.

Before he could come to a decision though, Bree stands up from her task as she casually rubs her hands together, causing the clinging dirt on her palms to fall. Eventually she becomes aware of his watching eyes and looks up just in time for their eyes to meet. He quickly looks away as embarrassment seeps into every fiber of his being for reasons unknown to him and he has no doubt that Bree is now smiling at his turned back.

He feels her soft touch on his arm and he turns around to find her presenting the small tablet to him again.

_Do you wish for me to continue?_

He licks his mandibles nervously. Truth be told he is intrigue by the tale, but even more so when there is so much evidence being presented to him to suggest that the story is true. He simply could not fathom the idea that the humans, especially their warriors who had more than enough reason to kill someone of their species, would instead take in a Sangheili child and raise her. If it wasn't for Bree's very presence, he wouldn't have believed in the notion.

Bree smiles at him before lowering herself to the ground and pats the spot next to her, indicating for him to sit.

He hesitates for a unit, but complies; he sees no harm in sitting with her.

Once he is settled, she begins writing on her tablet again.

* * *

Mark slowly opens his eyes, feeling more relaxed than he could ever remember.

He wonders about it briefly, but all he needed to do was look up at the canvas roof over his head and instantly understood why. This was the first time in over a month that he has been able to sleep indoors, or what could pass for indoors anyway. He also realizes this was the longest that he has ever slept; usually they would be up all night and are awaken before the sunrise. Judging by the faint yellow light, the suns have been up for a while now, possibly fifteen minutes or so. This has to be some new record; no Marine could have ever slept that long on a battlefield.

He yawns and stretches, looks like having a baby to look after is a good excuse to-

His eyes suddenly open wide, he finally notices there's something missing, or someone to be more precise.

He flings his blankets off as he sits up straight in his cot and looks around. The single man make shift bed is empty aside from him. He looks over the side of each end of the cot and even under it, but it was just as empty; Bree is gone.

Panic grips him. Where was she? Was she taken? Who could it have been? The Captain? Seymour? His own squad?

At this thought he looks up and around the tent and feels his blood turn to ice. It is empty, Seymour isn't standing guard at the entrance of the tent and Hirako's cot is vacant. His eyes however falls on the snoring form of Freddie who is still tangled in his blanket.

Filled with an unknown current of energy, Mark jumps onto the floor and rushes to where Freddie is sleeping. Without wasting a second, he grabs his teammate's blanket and yanks it off. Freddie wakes with a yelp as he falls to the ground while Mark looks over his sleeping area, only to find that it too is empty.

"Dude," Freddie says as he stands up with a murderous glare, "What is your problem?"

Mark turns on his heel and squares up with Freddie, "Where's Bree?" he demands in turn.

Freddie's eyes widen before narrowing in a disapproving way, "You lost it?"

Mark grinds on his teeth in silence. He saw the surprise in Freddie's eyes, he didn't take Bree, so who did?

As if hearing the question, the flap is pushed aside and a familiar squeak announces the newcomer's arrival.

Both Marines glance over and are met with an interesting sight. Stepping into the tent is Hirako with Bree resting in the crook of her arm, an unreadable expression on her face. She is now wearing just her olive green shirt, camouflage pants, and her combat boots but she still has her SMG hanging on her back. Following close behind her is Seymour who is still covered in his armor, yet what surprises the two Marines is that the giant Sergeant is carrying a large slab of meat in one hand that is still dripping its red juices.

Hirako pauses when she realizes the two guys were giving her weird looks and returns with a scowl, which she directs at Mark.

"Your kid was whimpering in her sleep," she says and hefts up Bree for emphasis.

Mark has no idea what possess him, but he rushes over to Bree and observes her. True enough the little Sangheili looks fine, her eyes are open wide and are observing him from the comfort of her little blanket. He didn't allow himself to breathe again until he saw that she was ok.

"Gunny," Freddie says cautiously, "what are you doing with a piece of raw steak?"

"No," Hirako says as she casts a longing look at the meat, "the question is why it is for the little 'angel'," she says sarcastically," and not for us?"

Mark looks at the meat in the Gunny's hand and the little teeth that is protruding from Bree's mandibles.

Freddie is already shaking his head, "there is no way that little thing could be old enough to eat something that huge."

The Gunny didn't say a thing; instead, he uses his free hand to tear off a small strip of the steak, bends over until he is partially in front of Hirako and presents the sliver to Bree. Before the Marines eyes, the little Sangheili flares her mandibles which acted almost as if they had a mind of their own. They grapple the food, fold it into her open mouth and slowly works her mandibles back and forth, break it down before swallowing. Within minutes, the remains of the steak is gone while a small smidge of red remains on the tip of Bree's mandibles.

Freddie could only shake his head and turn away while muttering something underneath his breath.

Mark couldn't help bt stare at Bree for a moment before looking up at Hirako, "Why are you giving her raw steak, won't it make her sick?"

Hirako shrugs, "Well first we tried to give her the jerky from our rations, but she wouldn't eat it-"

"And I don't blame her," injects Freddie.

"So," continues Hirako after she shoots Freddie a loathing glare, "we went to the Captain to see what he could do."

"You took Bree outside?" Mark asks in alarm as he wonders if he had slept through a riot. There was no way a bunch of battle weary Marines would allow a Sangheili, infant or no, to walk through their camp.

"Relax," hushes Hirako, "Seymour went to talk to Tony and I stayed here next to the tent, the best that the Captain was able to get was raw meat. We considered cooking it, but she looked more…eager to try it underdone."

Mark couldn't bring himself to believe in that, yet Bree apparently seemed to have enjoyed eating.

"As for milk," she says, "we have none so she has to live off water."

"Do they drink milk?" Freddie questions.

"How should I know," snaps Hirako, "I'm not the alien expert here."

Mark feels the blood drain from his face. What Hirako says hits him hard. True they aren't experts, but now that he thinks about it, they know almost nothing about caring for a little alien child. They don't know their diet, how much they are supposed to eat, if they are allergic to anything, how much food, or water is needed to sustain them or anything for their basic needs. How do they know they are not poisoning her little body as they speak? He suddenly feels anxiety and nausea threatening to make him sick, causing him to widening his stance so he wouldn't collapse from dizziness.

Before he could do so much as feint though, the flap opens again and in strides the Skipper.

The slick looking young adult from last evening is gone and has been replaced with a much more somber and serious looking military officer. His helmet is barely hanging onto his head; soot covers his clothes as well as a couple of red blots that looks like blood. His eyes are shot with black circles surrounding his eyes. He had discarded his long sleeve shirt in favor for a non-regulated sleeveless one, while his chest armor is dented. His normal good humor has disappeared and all that is left is the tough Marine that was created long ago during basic training, finally resurfacing after all this time.

The Marines all stand at attention while in the presence of the Company's new commander, a rough looking man who looks like one of the crazed veterans of the Rainforest Wars.

Tony releases a sigh and sits down heavily on a nearby cot. He takes out his canteen and was in the midst of unscrewing the cap when he realizes that the others in the tent (minus Bree) are still standing straight. He waves a hand dismissingly at them while murmuring, "At ease, at ease."

The squad relaxes, save for Seymour who remains standing with a stiff back and Bree who squirms a little within Hirako's arms.

"Well," Tony finally breathes out, "the camp is now in a state that can be described as functioning, we have been able to scourge up some food, we salvaged as much munition and fuel as possible and…we gathered our dead and wounded."

Mark gulps once, knowing where this could be leading. Sure enough Tony looks up at them, but more at Mark in particular.

"You picked the wrong time in bringing her here," the young Captain declares, "we lost twelve guys yesterday and their buddies are keen for payback."

Mark could only shake his head, he should have foreseen this coming, but in all honesty when he rescued Bree he was more thinking of the present and not the future.

"So what are we going to do Skipper?" Freddie asks, looking genuinely curious with how this is all going to play out.

"The best that I can figure is that we need to get her out of here," Tony declares, "seeing how none of you are willing to pull the trigger for some odd reason," here the assembled squad couldn't bring themselves to look at their commanding officer in the eye, "the only thing we can do now is to ship her out of here."

Mark feels his throat clog, "where?" he finally chokes out.

"I don't know," Skipper admits as he pulls out a cigarette, places it into his mouth, lights it, and smokes before saying, "we just need to get her onto a ship and then she'll be someone else's problem…probably ONI's."

Mark just about feels his heart drop. He still can't explain it, but he can't see himself parting from the little Snagheili. And ONI? They won't care for her; they will barely keep her alive just so that they can experiment and study her alien body.

"You…you do know what ONI is like, right Skipper?" Mark asks hesitantly.

"Yeah," Tony says as he takes out his cigarette and waves it in the air, causing tendrils of smoke to swirl, "it's a crying shame, but what am I supposed to do? Who else will take her? A daycare center? Honestly Straka, this is the best I can do."

"Ensuring her life as a science experiment?" Someone new demanded.

Mark glances at Hirako in slight shock, who at the moment looks affronted by what Skipper has just said.

The Captain looks just as surprised but he suppresses it and says, "what would you suggest we do then Sergeant? Tell me, I'm all ears."

Hirako doesn't speak, and neither does Mark. Nobody knows what to do, looks like the Skipper's plan is the best bet they are going to get.

"However," everyone's breath is caught at this word, "I've got some more news."

"Good or bad sir?" questions Freddie.

"Bad for us, but good for you three stooges," Tony finishes with a wave at the Marines, excluding Seymour. "At the moment, for an unknown number of days, we are cut off from the UNSC."

It feels as if the temperature within the tent has dropped significantly at the grave announcement. Even Seymour whose stoic stance and silence is legendary, slightly turns his head to better see the Skipper in a new light as if to check f he is serious or not.

Seeing the stun looks, Tony elaborates, "The squids-otherwise known as the fearless Navy-turned tail and ran last night, every last one of them, battleships, frigates and even cargo freighters, all gone, along with our reinforcements, air support and food. As of now, we are alone on this piece of rock with no one but the neighborly Covies to keep us company."

The Marines fearfully looks to one another. Without the support of the Navy, they virtually have nothing, there may be a few abandon cities and towns they could raid for supplies, but with the way the Covenant is destroying everything in sight they'll be lucky just to find so much as a single cloth of garment. Aside from that they can't get any more weapons, machines or man power. More disturbing and crippling is the dead and wounded; if they don't ship the dead then they will be forced to bury the bodies here on a planet where the remains could be incinerated if the Covenant starts glassing. Same for the wounded, the Corpsman are trained to patch up men and prepare them for the operating room, if they don't get proper care than they're goners as well. It's a bleak picture all around, even Bree remains silent as if the infant could detect the tension in the air.

"So…now what do we do?" Mark finally asks.

Skipper merely shrugs, "survive."

"I mean what is going to happen to Bree," Mark elucidates.

Skipper is silent for a moment before saying, "I need you guys back out there, all hands on deck."

He is stalling and everyone knows it. Finally Tony shakes his head and says, "We have to tell the others."

"What!" Mark exclaims while trying to remain respectful at the same time, "sir, with all due respect, they'll eat her alive, we're talking about nearly a hundred guys out there with a bone to pick with any alien species-"

"I know," Tony says loudly, "I know, but what more do you want me to do Corporal? I need you out there on the mortar and I need Seymour performing his duty, besides, he's not exactly the picture of the perfect nanny," he turns to the Gunny Sergeant and says, "no offense."

The Gunny shrugs, probably his own private way of saying 'no problem.'

Tony exhales loudly, "We can't hide secrets here, this is the Marines, not the government, besides, sooner or later people are going to get suspicious and I need everyone working together, if it becomes obvious we are hiding something it will no doubt split us apart, got me?"

The squad tilts their heads forward and says in unison, "sir, yes sir." The bond they have is strong, but delicate, this simple matter of letting a baby Sangheili live or die will no doubt cause some division.

Skipper looks at his watch before saying, "I'm going to get the camp together and have them meet outside the tent," he looks at Hirako and points out Bree, "and make sure she looks presentable, meaning wipe the blood off her teeth," with that he turns and ducks back out the building.

The group is silent before Freddie finally speaks, "we are so dead."

* * *

"So until further notice," Tony's voice floats into the tent, "we must ration everything, food, water, and, most importantly, ammo."

Mark and his squad nervously pace within the shelter of the pavilion, each dreading the inevitable meeting. Mark looks down at Bree as she is snuggled against his chest piece. As if they were all one mind, the mortar team has placed on their battle gear, Mark isn't sure if he is willing to fight against the corps to keep this little child safe, but he knows for certain he can't just stand by and watch her get torn to pieces.

He is surprised that Hirako and Freddie had donned their own gear as well and have their weapons on hand. Are they doing this for Bree or for Mark? Probably for Mark since Freddie still looks disgusted and Hirako has the air of a disapproving mother about her. As for Seymour…well he always worn his amour, yet the way he keeps glancing from the flap entrance to Bree leads Mark to wonder if he himself, the reaper of Delta Company, has somehow attached himself to the Sangheili baby.

"Alright then fellows that…almost wrap things up," the tension can easily be detected within the Captain's voice, "we have a matter that can be considered…controversial ."

There are some grumblings that can be heard, all of which sounds as if they belong to truly combat harden warrior veterans. Unconsciously, Mark draws the little one closer to him. They may have lost some men the other night, but there is at least a hundred well bodied Marines out there, some may be manning perimeter duty, but there is still more than enough people out there who has a score to settle with the Covenant.

"Now we have acquired something that is considered…valuable to the Covenant and that in turn makes it valuable to us," the Skipper reasons, earning some interested murmurs in responds.

"This will no doubt cause some change and disturbance in the camp, but ONI wants this thing kept safe and we are going to make it happen," there are some sounds of disagreement working with the spooks, but other than that they held their tongue. "Now we are going to show it to you so you know what it looks like, under no circumstances are you to harm it, destroy it, or kill it…because like I said we are low on ammunition at the moment," the Skipper ends with a nervous chuckle.

However the Marines are silent, no doubt waiting in anticipation to see what this "valuable" thing is.

The skipper is heard clearing his voice before calling out, "alright, bring out the…prisoner."

Mark balks at these words, but he places on his goggles, hoping this will hide his expression of fear and worry. He looks at his team and sees that they have risen from their sitting positions and are holding their weapons loosely, Hirako's SMG, Freddie's shotgun, and Seymour's pistol. Mark gulps once more before exhaling and looks down at Bree who's still asleep, her mandibles moving as she breathes. He readies himself for anything and takes the first few tense steps forward.

He crouches low as he exits the tent and stands up tall. He is partially blinded, but he blinks his eyes rapidly to clear his vision. What he sees next freezes him to the spot.

The Skipper is standing in front of the tent with an encouraging smile on his face, but all that Mark could see is the Company of Marines before them. They are all sitting, standing, crouching and lying on the grassy floor in an undisciplined dishevel group. Some have forgone their armor, some without their shirts, but they all had their weapons. The blank and cautious faces are suddenly replaced by surprise, wonder, confusion and malice. Their eyes burn, some even went as far as to stand and tighten their grip on their firearms.

Mark couldn't move, he couldn't make himself do so. He wanted nothing more than to run, to seek cover, but he is rooted to the spot. He is unsure if this is because he is devoted to protecting Bree or because he is scared to death at the prospect of being gunned down by his comrades.

That fear suddenly disappears when someone steps up beside him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees its Freddie, with an anxious look that surely matches the one Mark is wearing, but his eyes are determine as he takes a stand next to Mark. Stepping up to his other side is Hirako, followed by Seymour. They don't say anything, but Mark knows for certain of one thing, they won't let anything happen to him or Bree.

"This Sangehili child," the Captain speaks once more, turning to the crowd looking just as resolved as the other Marines feel, "is to be protected until it is to be extracted by ONI once they get here."

Silence dominates the scene for a moment and then chaos erupts. All the Marines suddenly leaps to their feet and started shouting over one another. Some tries to move towards Mark, but backs away when Freddie lowers his gun. Skipper tries to get things organize again, but the Marines are too busy yelling over each other hoarsely as they try to make their opinion heard. It ends though with the shots. It came out of nowhere and causes everyone to crouch for cover, silencing them in the process. Three bangs resound across the land like thunder, with the shooter pointing his firearm up and over everyone's heads. The barrel is smoking lightly, making it look all the more deadly. The shooter is Seymour, who looks around once more to make sure that there is no more shouting before lowing the sidearm, but he doesn't holster it.

After the giant of a Marine put his weapon down, that is when everyone hears the small wails. Mark just now realizes that he has been watching the Marines before him and not Bree in his arms. The sudden outburst of violence and sounds has woken her and she cries as a way of showing her displeasure at the disorder that has woken her.

It has become a standard routine now as Mark gently bounces the girl and holds her close. Her watery eyes look up at him before she squirms and continues to cry. Mark removes the goggles protecting hs eyes and lets his eyes show. Seeing the familiar color calms the little Sangheili as she registers who he is and she responds by curling in on herself while pressing against him.

Once she has quieted down and is now starring up at him with dried amber eyes, he returns his gaze upward and sees the shock faces of the men and women of Delta Company. He couldn't help but smirk at the sight.

"As I was saying," Tony starts again, "we will protect the Sangheili at all costs until we are relieved, is that clear?"

There are still some hostile looks in the crowd, but as they look from the harden looks on the mortar team and back, they stiffen their aggression as one by one they lower their gaze and mutter a confirmation to the order.

Nobody else attacks or argues, but Mark knows that keeping Bree safe is going to be a lot harder than he originally thought.


	6. A New Day

**A New Day**

Va'lorn makes the gesture, or so he thought when Bree slapped his fingers.

"What?" he demanded in an annoyed voice.

Bree picks up the tablet next to her and writes, '_Unless you wish to insult a female, never make that sign again.'_

Va'lorn wanted to know what it was he said, but decides against it since the sign clearly upset Bree. They are sitting inside her home in what he came to call her "art room" where she usually draws, but during this cycle she has decided to teach him hand gestures.

So far the results have been disastrous. Va'lorn is being forced to use his digits to form different shapes and gestures that make him feel idiotic, but he doesn't say this to Bree of course. It took him what felt like entire cycles just to learn the sign for greeting, now they are trying to coax his fingers into making the gestures for "day", "sun", "man", "woman" and much more.

However it's pretty clear that Bree hasn't really taught anyone how to understand her before, she has mostly been using her tablet to try and draw all the different signs and what they represent while also giving an examples for each of them, but to Va'lorn's uneducated mind in this type of teaching, the different positions of the fingers all look so similar to him. He has begun to wonder if she is trying to teach him because she is tired of writing everything she has to say, or if she wanted him as a interpreter for others or if she just wished to have someone to converse with, in a manner of speaking.

He is starting to become weary of these trials, but it's pretty clear that Bree is far from giving up; in fact she seems more determined than ever to have him master the basics of 'sign language' as she calls it.

She then signals to him slowly 'try…again.'

He feels some pride in understanding what she has just said at the moment, but that was only because she repeated the gesture more times than he can remember.

Carefully, he attempts to speak again through his hands.

'Greetings Bree…you…look…flower…meat…'

Va'lorn finally releases an angry huff and crosses his arms. He may look like a youngling with a tantrum at the moment, but he didn't care. He has been able to master the blade, to endure the hardship of a beating and defeated many of his fellow males in wrestling matches. If he didn't win the first time around, he trains until he can achieve victory. This time though he feels like it's not going anywhere, all that he knows he is doing right is insult Bree.

However the female only sighs before writing, '_it is alright Va'lorn.'_

"I'm dreadful at this," he informs her as he lowers his head, "I have no idea how you are able to do this, it's causing my head to ache just thinking about each different hand gesture."

He could hear Bree scratching a response before he feels her hand on his shoulder while the other held the tablet in front of his eyes, '_I grew up learning this so I can speak with my uncle, it took some time, but eventually I was enabled to sign to him.'_

Va'lorn is silent before raising his head and asking cautiously, "Your uncle…was he a human."

She doesn't write anything for a moment before jotting down, _'does it matter?_'

He hesitates to answer before informing her, "All my life I grew up being told that the humans are just as barbaric as the Jiralhanaes."

'_Have you ever met a human?_' Bree questions.

He is silent before shaking his head, "No, but what about your story? You said so yourself you weren't welcome among the human military, so forgive me if I have a hard time believing this."

Bree sits, unmoving before she writes, '_True, there are some humans who resented me, rightfully so and understandably, but not all of them were like that.'_

Va'lorn studies her reaction carefully, a unit ago she was frustrated and angry, now her demeanor drops lowly, no doubt remembering past pains and quite possibly lost loved ones before he speaks again.

"Your father and your uncle?" he says more to confirm his theory.

She smiles lightly before shaking her head and writes, '_No, the Marine Seventh Division, Delta Company, was my family._'

* * *

"Well this sucks."

"What does?" demands Hirako, "sitting in the bleeding sun, being glared at by basically everyone in camp or baby-sitting?"

"Take your pick," Freddie murmurs, "but honestly the last one isn't as bothersome considering Mark is the one raising the creature from the black lagoon."

The last mortar squad member shakes his head as he takes his shirt off and tosses it aside. They are sitting in their fox hole with the mortar tube, surrounded by different boxes holding various types of ammunition, from destructive AP rounds to harmless flares, they had it all. The one thing that was out of place though was the baby alien.

Mark had dug a little alcove and placed Bree within it, partially shielding her from the sun while the cool ground radiates a coolness that seems to be keeping her content on this hot day. She is on the verge of sleep, but every so often her head snaps up like she is staying awake but is losing consciousness anyway, an action that Mark finds cute.

He glances at Bree one more time to see her blink lazily before spreading her mandibles in a long yawn. He smiles at this, but it disappears when he feels a tingling sensation on the back of his neck and he glances over his shoulder.

A young Marine in another mortar hole is staring right back.

There is silence as they watch one another before Mark says, "Can I help you?"

The young man shakes his head, "nothing, I just don't like working at a freak daycare center that's all."

Mark doesn't say a thing as he turns back around and sits down, placing his back against the soil wall as he separates himself from the other Marine. Mark's squad has been insulted, given the evil eye and basically outcaste by the rest of the company. They only speak to them if they have to, but always referring to their surnames and rank and squad designation. The only exception is Skipper, but he is practically buried in work, organizing the Marines for the trip to FOB Savage, the closest base where they can take up refuge.

Mark gulps as he looks up towards the clouds, a nervous habit that has been spreading. Almost everybody is gazing upwards, expecting to see the hull of the Covenant vessels above and getting set to obliterate them. However the skies are as clear as ever. He watches for a while longer before shifting his position until he is sitting next to Bree.

Slowly, she turns her eyes towards him and gives a small squeak acknowledging his presence. He smiles before he gently glides a hand over her forehead, causing her eye lids to droop lazily, just on the verge of sleep.

"Yeah I guess she's cute," surprised, Mark glances up at Freddie who is watching before finishing with, "to a point of course."

Mark rolls his eyes, "of course."

Hirako pays them no mind as she places two fingers against the side of her helmet and speaks into the comms.

"Carson Five," she says, "This is Carson two-four, over."

"Copy Two-Four," a gruff male voice responds.

"How are things looking, any targets on sight?"

"Negative, they'll just about clear; hopefully nothing will happened, but stay alert, over."

"Roger Five, Two Four out," Hirako signs off as she takes out a small MRE pack and tears it open, "guess that means we are on standby alert."

"You sound depress Sarge," comments Freddie.

"Well who isn't these days?" she retorts before opening a can of beans and started drinking it from the container.

Mark was about to make a comment when a large shadow covers him and he glances up.

"Hey Gunny," Mark greets the giant Marine who is standing on the edge of the hole.

The Sergeant nods at Mark before squatting awkwardly due to his injured leg and looks around the hole until his glass covered eyes settled on Bree. He studies her for a moment before returning his attention to the mortar squad and started moving his hands.

_'Everything under control?'_

"Well aside from the fact that everyone in camp hates our guts and we are now the proud founders of the galactic interspecies babysitting service," Freddie states sarcastically, "nope, nothing could be better."

The Gunny gives Freddie a long look, causing the PFC to squirm and looks down.

Turning towards Hirako the Gunny signals, _No situation_?

"None sir," reports the Sergeant, "all quiet so far…on the Western Front I might add."

"Careful Hirako," Mark cautions her, "the last thing we need you to do is jinx us."

She gives Mark a pointed look before making herself comfortable on a small mound of dirt she had gathered early on and is now using it as a seat.

The quad of soldiers falls silent as they listen to the occasional chatter over the radio and waiting to hear for any of the company's COs to call their name and give then a order, but so far nothing. Delta is currently on standby alert, ordered to assist any Marine units that run into trouble as they evac out of the valley that Delta's hill is overlooking.

Almost thousands of Marines are getting prep to fall back to Forward Operating Base Savage which was placed in the center of another giant valley that they supposedly control, but any idiot can see that if they're not careful then the enemy can easily surround them and chop them into pieces. Sheer numbers and prayers were the only thing that the Commanders are hoping will keep the Covenant from attacking. Mark isn't completely positive if that is the best defense strategy they could come up with, but still it's something.

If Mark remembers correctly, the place was huge with a mess hall, showers, barracks and there was even rumors of there being a grav-court being erected there. It was pure paradise to the Delta Company Marines who have literally been sloshing and sleeping in the muck and mud of the jungle section they have been tasked with protecting, a mission that apparently has been rebuked.

However, Mark isn't really looking forward to the journey for two primary reasons. First of all it will be treacherous, when they left the FOB to take up position on the hill they are on now they needed Vultures and Hornet gunships to cut a way through the hordes of Covenant soldiers. They lost four guys trying to get here. Now without the Navy for support, can they expect to get any help from the air or will they be on their own?

The second and more important reason is her; Bree.

It is taking the full power of the rank of a Captain and the presence of a small mortar squad armed with their weapons to keep back blood lust filled Marines. Mark completely understands, he has lost his family to these monsters, watch his friends die and witnessed planets being glassed along with their billions of inhabitants still on the surface.

However whenever he looked at Bree he didn't see that beasty side of her; all he sees is a young child who now may never get to know her mother and will never see her family again; just like him. He's not sure if he is willing to die for the child, but he remembers the first time he saw her, he saved her from a crazed Brute. Then he tried to hang on tightly to her when Seymour ordered him to get rid of her. And finally he was positively frantic when he couldn't find her that one morning and wouldn't keep his eyes off of Hirako as she held the little Elite. As much as he wishes to deny it, he can't. He has formed some sort of bond with the baby; one that was probably forged when he promised Bree's mother (or who he hoped to be her mother) to take care of her. Can he do it now, is it even possible?

There are roughly eight dozen men in the Company right now and they are all despising Bree's presence as well as Mark's. He isn't sure if he can blame them. FOB Savage is a whole different story entirely, an entire Marine Division will be assembling there, nearly a thousand men who has a grudge against the Elites, the Covenant's best, brightest and deadliest killers. He knows Tony will try and straighten things out, but he is just a Captain, there will no doubt be Majors, Colonels and maybe even Generals present who will not be as heartwarming as Tony. They'll either have her killed by firesquad or will keep her as a prisoner while they wait to be rescued or hand her over to ONI.

He doesn't like these odds, they all end badly on Bree's part, the little alien female who has never wronged anyone or anything will be mistreated and killed just for living, just for being an alien.

Unconsciously, he shifted his body until he is sitting right next to the little alien and watches her sleep.

She has grown on him, no doubt about that, but how, and why? Sure he thinks that infants are cute and cuddly, but they are human beings, this is an Elite alien, she doesn't even have a freaking mouth that he could use to decipher weather she is smiling or close to waling. Her eyes are a shade close to being blood red, they hold fire yet also life and a kind of innocence that he has not seen in a long time. Maybe that's why he can't bring himself to kill her, because of her eyes. She may be an alien but she has the same human emotions, the same human innocence and the same human mind set.

Perhaps there is a way to have her think like a human or at the very least see them as a friend and not an enemy. But will she even accept them? Sure she does now, but that's because she is so young and needs to be taken care. As she grows she will start seeing the difference between herself and her human guardians.

He shakes his head to clear his mind. What is he thinking? He's acting like he's going to sit back and watch her grow, but he can't. The military won't allow it. They are at war with her people and they are going to take her away from them.

Maybe it will be for the best. He doesn't know jack about raising a kid. He doubts Freddie is willing, he's just tagging along because he feels an obligation to help his squad. Hirako may know a thing or two about parenting, or Bree could just be warming up to her because the Sergeant is a woman and seems to have a soothing motherly sense that all children apparently can sense. As for Seymour…to be honest he'll be surprised just to know he's on friendly basis with a child, let alone raising one.

They're Marines, trained to fight, to kill; not to play maid nurse for orphan extraterrestrials.

"You're thinking hard again aren't you Mark?" Freddie calls across their fox hole.

Mark nods as he runs a finger gently down Bree's face, causing her mandibles to quiver, but not out of fright he hopes, "just thinking about this whole mess we are in that's all."

"Well, for the record," Freddie holds up a finger for dramatic effect before bringing it down and pointing it at Mark, "this whole thing is your fault."

Mark shakes his head, "thank you Captain Obvious."

Freddie mumbles to himself but falls silent soon after.

The dirt above them shifts as Seymour stands and signs _'keep eyes open, protect each other_,' he then turns and lumbers off.

The team watches him go. Protect each other? They already do that without needing orders, was he thinking about Bree when he signed that?

"Ok," Freddie says, "so is it just me or did Seymour suddenly find a soul?"

Hirako shakes her head, "He's probably just…surprised you know, I mean I for one am, who would have thought we would run across an alien family here."

"Some great parenting skills," Freddie intrigues before saying sardonically, "'Hey gang, let's go to a warzone,' shoot man, if that's how an Elite is raised, I'm not surprised they grow up to be grumpy roaring monsters."

"Well Bree's going to be different," Mark suddenly declares, "I can see it in her eyes, she's just like any other human baby, she just needs caring parents that's all."

"We're not playing house Straka," Hirako says in a dangerously low voice, "as soon as ONI gets here, we'll give her to them and-"

"And they'll dissect her before freezing her body for future research," Mark interrupts with an acid voice.

Hirako doesn't reply, in fact at that moment, a Marine came walking up next to their hole before coming to a stop. He takes one long look at Bree before Mark coughs.

"Need something Marine?" he asks casually.

The man remains silent as he eyes Bree before saying, "Is it like a human baby?"

The team is momentarily stunned. They were expecting an insult, but his voice holds no deception, he truly was curious about Bree.

"Uh…"Mark stutters before summoning back his senses, "Yeah, yeah, she's like a human child."

He kneels as he examines her, Mark made sure his hand is close to his Magnum pistol, this guy doesn't look like he is looking for trouble, but he it doesn't hurt being careful.

"Does her…" he starts off cautiously, "how does her skin feel?"

"Kind of like leather," Hirako answers who is also watching the Marine closely.

He stares at the baby for a moment before nodding as he asks, "So…how do you know she's a she?"

"Dude," Freddie says, "it's kind of noticeable when you change her diaper."

"You have diapers?" he asks as he looks up at the PFC with disbelieving eyes.

"No we don't," answers Hirako, "we just cut up pieces of clothes, blankets or a tarp and uses it for her."

The man is silent for a long while as he watches Bree sleep before he stands and starts to walk away.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Mark calls out, causing the man to pause and look back.

"Why are you so interested?" Mark asks.

The Marine glances away before sighing and shrug, "I used to have a kid myself and…I guess I just…wanted to know," he finishes awkwardly as he tries to walk away again, but only to stop. He seems to be debating with himself before he turns around and says, "You know children needs lot of attention, so make sure one of you is always with her, especially out here," with that he finally walks away, but with a quick step in his strides as if he wants to sprint as far away from them as possible.

The team watches the man with a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

"Alright," Freddie says slowly, "is that guy a nutter or was he actually concerned for this thing?"

Mark ignores the last comment as he speaks, "he said he had a child of his own, maybe Bree just reminded him."

There was also the possibility that the Marine just gave them a warning of a imminent attack, by other Marines no doubt, but Mark isn't completely sure of that theory so he doesn't voice it.

"I doubt that unless his kid had four mandibles and freaking glowing eyes," Freddie comments.

Mark doesn't say a thing, he just returns to stroking Bree's tough skin and wonder how long he can hang on to her.

**Sorry for the long wait, had writer block for a while**. **So how was this chapter, it's kind of shorter than other chapters, but I hope it was decently long enough. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. **


	7. A Trip

**Sorry for the long wait, I had a summer job that took up a lot of time last month which is why I didn't update for most of July. I'm going to be starting college soon, a big thing in my community that I don't want to mess up so updates will be infrequent, sorry for the inconvenience.**

* * *

**A Trip**

Va'lorn could feel everyone's eyes are staring at him, making him extremely self-conscious, an emotion he never dealt with before.

Something bumps against his shoulder and he glances over to see Bree smiling in a teasing manner.

'_Relax_,' she signs, '_what's so unnatural about a big strong man helping a woman in distress_?'

He couldn't tell if she is speaking honestly, all that he is doing is carrying the baskets of supplies she is buying from the market. He is a warrior, a Minor maybe, but still a warrior nonetheless, so why is he doing servant's work? His presence within the crowd of Sangheili is obvious since he is the only one wearing body armor while everyone else is dressed in traditional robes.

This is not how he envisioned his life as a warrior to be like.

Bree then signals, '_I'll be back, I need to buy some meat_.'

"Wait, what?" he tries to asks, but she has already left and is lost among the throng of people.

He releases a small snarl as he wonders if he was selected to be her guard or her personal servant. They have been gathering staples that Bree needs for units on end and now there is a small gathering of Sangheilis just watching them; the most renowned female of the fief is leading a Minor who is carrying her provisions. The only thing that could possibly make this worse is if-

"Well, if it isn't the mighty warrior," he feels himself stiffen, "how are you Va'lorn?"

Almost with dread, Va'lorn turns to see two of his former sparring mates from his old training days at the Keep.

Facing him, both with wide grins on their snouts as they observe the Minor before them, are the fiefs most influential young males. He feels a light emotion of envy flow through him when he sees that they are wearing the silver armor of a higher warrior class.

K'isna was revealed to be the Keep Lord's eldest son during the final cycle of training. Since then he has been groomed to be the next ruler of the fiefdom, meaning he is being showered in gifts, praises and now almost every beautiful woman is staring at him longingly in hopes of him choosing one of them as a mate. He is a good swordsman with his blade, but other than that he speaks broadly about himself and always tries to be the center of attention. Him being the son of the Keep Lord is like a message from fate that he was destine for greatness.

His companion is Drei, one of his closest friends and one of the most enormous Sangheili that Va'lorn has ever seen. He wouldn't be surprised if the young male is a spawn of a Jiralhanae, it didn't cost him much effort to throw Va'lorn around on the training field in their youth, that's for sure. To this day he is still massive and he bears a staff in his hand with a heavy blunt end on one side while an energy blade pulses on the other. K'isna was born with his respect, but Drei earned his through strength of open arms and brutality.

Va'lorn used to stand up to them whenever he felt they were stepping out of line, like when they would terrorize their fellow trainees just so that they could get extra food rations. Back then Va'lorn probably wasn't much better himself, he would always gloat about himself, telling anyone who would listen that one day he will be a great warrior, a hero of the new age.

Now here he stands with a woman's basket, one in each hand while bearing the lowest position in the Sangheili guard.

He dreads what is going to happen next, but he swallows his fear as he tries to remain calm.

"Good day K'isna," he nods his head towards the indicated Sangheili before addressing the other, "Drei."

The duo continues smiling as K'isna advances towards Va'lorn and peers into the baskets.

"My, my," he chuckles, "what a vast inventory for a warrior." He reaches within one of the containers and pulls out a small chronicle scroll, "planning on being a scholar oh mighty one?"

Va'lorn squares up to the arrogant male and snarls, "Give it back," he says lowly, "now."

K'isna smirks and movement behind him causes Va'lorn to flick his eyes in that direction and sees that Drei is now positioned close by, with his spear being held at the ready.

Va'lorn could probably bring down K'isna by himself, but he can't take on Drei when he is armed, and certainly not now when his own hands are full. To his ever growing grief though the small crowd that has been following him is growing, all watching with interest. He doesn't want to back down, not to fight would mean a loss of honor, yet he knows for a fact that he is outmatched and may even be facing death. This is no training scenario, this is now the real world.

He desperately tries a different tactic, "starting a brawl in a public place will not be good for your statues," Va'lorn says carefully, "especially for the next Keep Lord."

K'isna doesn't even seem to blink as he replies, "I don't know about that Va'lorn, doesn't a Keep Lord need to prove his worth by trail of combat?"

"Attacking a virtually unarmed opponent while your personal guard will no doubt interfere?" Va'lorn demands as he glances at Drei.

K'isna frowns at this but his smug look returns, "Speaking of personal guard Va'lorn, how is it babying a female," a glint shows in his eyes, "surely it must be…interesting," he runs a tongue alongside one of his mandibles.

It suddenly feels as if an untold torrent of fury floods into Va'lorn as he narrows his eyes on the offender before him. He has no idea why, but that last comment has struck him more than anything else. He takes a step closer to the offender and suddenly feels himself loosening his muscles.

K'isna steps back, his eyes widening briefly before they dilated some and he gives off a growl of a challenge. He widens his stance while his one free hand reaches down for his energy sword on his hip. However before he could withdraw it, a flash of movement passes by the Sangheili's side and swipes the scroll he was holding from his hand. Both Va'lorn and K'isna jump lightly when they now see that it is Bree who has popped up right next to them and is now standing between the two fuming males.

She smiles kindly at K'isna before turning to Va'lorn and returns the scroll to the basket that it came from. She then made rapid gestures with one hand that were almost impossible for Va'lorn to follow.

_'Let us take our leave.'_

Va'lorn is yet again surprised by the female. If they leave then it will look like they are fleeing like cowards.

Bree grinds her teeth together before simply signing, '_now_.'

K'isna however steps up right next to her and sniffs around her. Bree looks back just in time to see him place his hand on her shoulder.

"Tell me wise one," he says in a posh tone, "are you being courted?"

Va'lorn feels himself being consumed by anger again. K'isna has no interest in Bree, he probably figures he will become short of a legend if she becomes his bondmate, the female who single handedly saved the fief from falling into shambles.

Bree made a show of her human upbringings as she rolls her eyes, looking more annoyed then intimidated before she signs again.

"Does she accepts?" asks a rather eager K'isna

"She asked you to remove your hand," here he steps closer, "or I will do it for you."

K'isna sneers, "So says the lowly servant holding the basket like a little female."

Bree jerks from K'isna's hold and makes to move away. The male however peruses and grabs her arm again and squeezes his talons into her flesh.

Suddenly Bree grabs the offending hand, turns towards its owner and dives forward. K'isna lets out a pathetic yelp as he flips over Bree and lands on his back with a loud snap as his arm is twisted in an unnatural way. She releases the male as he lays on the floor, howling in agony as he cradles his broken limb; all within the blink of an eye.

Va'lorn stares with wide eyes, unsure of what he has just seen. Sure she once caught his neck in a hand lock once, but this is something else. All Sangheili warriors are taught the different moves and techniques that have been perfected and passed down the line for centuries and Va'lorn prided himself on knowing every single last one of them. What he has just witnessed though is a fighting style that he has never seen before.

Bree doesn't look to be winded in the least, in fact she just appears annoyed with the fact that everyone is gawking at her. Dismissingly, she grabs Va'lorn arm and with a tug, commands him to follow her, which he does without hesitation. Everybody switches between watching the two of them leave to the sniveling male on the floor; even Drei appears too stunned to move.

Va'lorn walks after his charge in silence as they exit the market and are on the road to Bree's home, all the while he tries to comprehend what he has seen but fails to understand it. Finally he speeds up a little until he is abreast with the female and asks in a low voice, "Where did you learn that?"

She casts him an odd look before turning away and distractedly uses her hands; _my family taught me when I was young_.

"They teach their young to fight as well?" he asks in light of this latest finding.

She gives a heavy sigh before responding, '_it's a dangerous world'_.

* * *

"Alright Delta Company!" yells Tony, "Let's get moving!"

Mark swallows a hard lump that has been building within his throat for the past hour as he checks his rifle one last time.

The hill top that they have been sleeping on for days on end has been left in its original form except for the dug up fire positions and trampled vegetation. The few tents that have been put up has now been packed, the numerous boxes of ammo and intelligence equipment has been stored away and now the Marines are getting into their designated squads to begin boarding their transport vehicle.

With the absence of the Navy and with them in such short supply, Delta Company has been unable to persuade Camp Savage to lend them some Pelicans to help with the Marines extraction. They are still in a hostile area, so there is a strong chance that there are anti-aircraft weapons or enemy Banshees that are waiting for a human ship to target. With no other choice, Delta will have to make the journey on the ground.

This may very well spell out disaster.

All they have are Warthogs, five with chain guns, nine troop transports, and four civilian Spades trucks whose back beds have been tied down with boxes of supplies and equipment. Everyone is eager to leave, believing things will be better once they get to the FOB. They may be stuck on the planet, but at least they will be among fellow Marines; the more the merrier was the saying that has been going around lately.

This though is not the case for the small mortar squad as they stand huddled in their own little corner as all the activity happens around them. This is partially because nobody wishes to be associated with a Split-lip lover and because the team is trying to go through the different scenarios on what could possibly go wrong.

True Bree has ridden on a vehicle before, but they were moving slow and didn't have any engagements with hostile forces. Not to mention riding with Marines who have been eyeing her with complete malice in their gaze.

"Which is more painful," Freddie asks, "getting gut shot with lead or plasma?"

Mark releases massive breath of air, "You really know how to break the ice don't you Freddie?"

He shrugs, "just saying man, this could go south real fast."

"Things already went south," breaks in Hirako who was holding a jubilant looking Bree, "we're just ridding the storm till it ends."

Mark swallows before asking, "And what happens when this supposed storm ends?"

She eyes him carefully before shaking her head, "you don't want to know."

However he already knows the answer, this will end one way; with Bree being flown away to be a prisoner of war before she could even walk or talk.

The thought causes Mark to look down at Bree who is being cradled in his Sergeant's arms. The young alien has wide ember eyes as she looks back and forth, mystified by the massed movement and never before heard sounds that surrounds her. She occasionally squeak and squirm when she sees something new that makes her uncomfortable, but Hirako would just hold her closer and have her hand gently sooth the baby's smooth head.

"Alright, last call to load them up!"

Wearily Hirako sighs before holding Bree out to Mark who slings his rifle before taking the infant. The Sergeant then picks up her own submachine gun that was lying on the ground and loads a round. Freddie does likewise, only with an assault rifle, almost everybody is expecting to run into trouble. Mark does his best to stiffer his own fears as he follows his comrades to the waiting trucks.

They were assigned to the second to last Warthog which was made for transport. The back that usually holds a turret has been replaced with a roll over cage and four extra seats, two facing one side and two facing the other so that whoever rides it are back to back with each other. Mark feels his heart plummet when he sees who's ridding with them.

Sitting in the driver, passenger and one of the back seats were ODSTs, worst; judging by their dirt covered armored, cracked helmets and slightly slouch positions, they were combat veterans, all of whom have their weapons resting on their laps.

"What are they doing here?" Mark questions, hoping his voice doesn't come out as shrill as he feared it did.

Hirako shrugs as she tries to hide her own surprised while Fred smacked himself with his palm and moans. Hesitantly Mark looks up and down the line of vehicles, but they are all filled up, leaving only one open that is occupied by probably the most brutal Marines that have ever been trained. The rivalry between the Troopers and 'Regulars' is almost as old as time, but here they are fighting alongside one another and now riding together apparently.

Freddy bonks the back of Mark's helmet before he and Hirako leads the way to the vehicles. Hesitantly, after making sure Bree was tucked safely within the crook of his arm, the third squad member hurries after the others.

However they all slow to a near halt as they approach the Warthog. The Trooper in the rear is sitting so still that Mark wonders if he is asleep. This proves false when the helmet turn and the bright blue face plate is staring straight at them.

"Uh…" Mark suddenly felt tongue tied and unconsciously brings the infant closer to his chest.

The Trooper is silent before turning his head and looks at Hirako.

The ODST nods his head, "Sergeant."

Hirako nods back, "Yeah…and you are?"

"Sergeant Thorkil Shofner," answers the Sergeant, "people call me 'Kelp'."

The three Marines blink almost at the same time. They heard the rumors of the ODSTs being nuts, but up until now they didn't really believed it. Their first encounter with one though is quickly changes their mind.

Either oblivious or ignoring their confused looks, Kelp points to the front.

"That's Jackie Ephron up there," he indicates the driver before pointing to the passenger, "and that lump next to him is Howler."

"Howler?" questions Freddy.

"Howler," nods the man now known as Kelp.

Hirako just shakes her head, "Well, don't mind us sitting with you?"

Kelp merely shrugs, not really reassuring to Mark in the slightest.

Hirako is the first up; she gives her SMG to Freddie before climbing up and taking the seat behind Kelp, her facing left while he was facing right.

Freddie then gives Hirako both her gun and his rifle before climbing up. He makes to sit next to Kelp when the Trooper suddenly looks the Marine dead in the eye.

"I prefer if you sit somewhere else," he says in a low voice.

Freddie seems surprised before looking to Hirako for her command. She visibly bites her lip in mild frustration. If Freddie sits next to her, that would mean Mark will have to sit with Kelp, putting Bree in dangerous close proximity to the Trooper. She then looks at Mark who only gives her a helpless shrug, he wonders if he could hand Bree to the Sergeant or maybe even Freddie, but before he could suggest that, Tony's voice floats through the air.

"Straka!" The Captain shouts, "stop smelling the roses and get on board!"

Following the CO's instruction, Mark moves forward. Gently, he holds little Bree up to Hirako who puts her gun down before grabbing the infant. It took just three seconds for the mortar man to climb up and in that span Bree has begun to squirm and tries to escape from the Sergeant's grip. So much for having Bree stay with her, if she keeps struggling like that then there's the chance that she might get flung out of the vehicle if they hit a bump.

Mentally flinching at the prediction, Mark holds out his arms. Hirako hesitates, concern for Mark's safety or the little ones, he has no idea. Still, after setting her eyes on the human that had saved her, Bree just becomes fussier. Sighing slightly, Hirako hands over her charge.

Almost instantly Bree calms herself and flairs her mandibles at him, was this how they display their happiness?

Mark stiffens when he feels the lurch as the gears of the truck being shifted, prompting him to take his seat quickly. He feels the shielded eyes of Kelp and Howler observing him, but he pretends not to notice as he rearranges Bree's posture so that she's seated comfortably on his lap.

There is a burst of static in his ear before the Captain's voice is heard.

"Alright Marines," Tony says, "We have the green light, let's get comfortable for a long haul."

Towards the front of the column, the first vehicle speeds off, like a giant inch worm on the move, each Warthog waits a few seconds for the one in front of it to get to a reasonable distance before following up on it. After a couple of minutes, it was their turn. Mark watches as the loaded down Spade in front of them drives away, it's back heavily laden down with supplies, leaving a small dust cloud in its wake. The Warthog remain motionless for a couple of seconds before driving away.

The last vehicle to fall in is a Warthog with a chain gun as it covers the convoy rear as they sped off. Within minutes, their old observation point disappears behind them as they kept their eyes forward towards their new mission; surviving.

* * *

They have covered only ten miles and in that much distance they jumped over ravines, powered through streams and charged through the vegetation that gets in their way, but for the moment they are driving slowly as they negotiate a path through the thick foliage with an occasional tree branch smacking a cursing Marine in the face as they pass. They had traveled on the road when they first came up the hill weeks ago, but Tony didn't want to risk them traveling in the open without any air support. A wise decision at first, but after being tossed in the air for the thousandth time with their safety straps painfully yanking them back into their seats, the Marines are starting to have second thoughts. Even their little alien guest didn't agree with their choice of travel.

Mark is hanging onto Bree with all his strength. He dared not let go for fear of her jumping out of his lap and onto the ground. Bree clearly did not like being held in a death grip and constantly whined and made little high pitched yelp that would end with something similar to a moan. The sound disturbed the occupants of the Warthog; this was a noise they never heard an alien make before.

"Is it crying!?" Jacki's soft voice could barely be heard over the wind of the open compartment.

"I don't think so!" Mark yells back, "I think she just doesn't like the ride!"

"And I don't blame her!" screams Freddie from behind Mark, right into the man's ear.

"Freddie," Mark says in a softer tone, "I can hear you, you don't have to shout."

"What!?" Freddie shouts once again in the Corporal's ear, causing it to ring.

"Shut up!"

Mark instantly regrets shouting since it made Bree start to suck in air rapidly, an indication she was getting ready to cry.

Deciding to take a risk, he picks her up and holds her against his chest plate, hoping she won't bonk her head against the tough armor. At that instant they hit a tree root that causes the biggest bruise yet on everyone's rear; soon Bree isn't the only one moaning.

"This is insane," Kelp says, speaking for the first time since they left, "at this rate we won't make it to the FOB till tomorrow."

"But the day just stated…I think," finishes Freddie as he looks above them, but the suns were almost completely blocked out by the large tree branches.

"Well between sleeping outside or getting shot at," comments Hirako, "I think I would prefer-Freddie!" she suddenly yells, "stop whining! Not even Bree cries that much!"

Mark casts a quick glance at his Sergeant; that was the first time he had heard her say Bree's name. However the woman was more focused on scowling at the Private beside her.

"I can't help it," Freddie whimpers, "There's something poking me on the butt every time we hit something."

"There's probably something in your pack," Mark suggests, "Did you empty it before we left?"

"No," answers Freddie, "hang on." Mark listens to the shuffling behind him before he hears, "wow! Look at this guys!"

Mark turned and felt his face lose all its color.

"What are you doing with a mortar round!?" Hirako roars so loud that even Bree flinches, "It's a miracle it hasn't gone off with all this bumping!"

"I'm sorry!" Freddie says, "I must have forgotten it by mistake."

"Freddie if that thing blows us to pieces, I swear I'll kill you!" Hirako threatens.

There is a moment of silence before Freddie finally replies, "I fail to see how that will work."

"Trust me," growls Hirako, "I'll find a way."

"Watch what you say Hirako," Freddie chides lightly, "there is a child present."

"Why you lousy son of a…" she trails off as she mumbles darkly to herself, Mark isn't sure if this is because she was hoping on mocking Freddie this way or if she really is concerned about teaching Bree 'grown-up' words. Probably won't matter considering Marines are cussing about one thing or another on a daily basis.

Mark returns his attention to Bree who seems to be having mixed emotions. One moment she looks around excitedly as she notes her new surroundings and he is sure he saw her smile when they picked up speed a little. The next she is close to wailing again whenever they hit a bump or whenever the Marines had to shout to be heard.

Finally after nearly an hour has passed, Mark turns his attention to the Trooper next to him.

Kelp…How did he get a name like that from Thornton, or, wait…what was his name again? Maybe that's why he has a nickname.

His body armor is the standard issue of the ODST's black gear that covers him head to toe unlike the one that Mark and the regular Marines had to wear. In addition to that there is also the signature helmet that completes the set and what sets them apart from any other known unit. To be a Trooper you had to be crazy considering you are volunteering to be dropped into the enemy's backyard, but because of that they received the best equipment, weapons and training. They were always deployed into the worst of places, the tip of every sword and sphere the UNSC throws at the Covenant. Their hatred and the near fanatical dedication to eradicate their enemy make them the most well-known Jarheads in the Corps.

In other words, the worst possible person for Bree to be closed to is sitting right next to her.

His armor chest plate has the image of cross swords like a Jolly Rogers, instead of a human skull though there is a picture of an alien head, one that looks eerily like an Elite's. There is a strip of lavender on top of his helmet, why purple Mark has no idea and he doesn't want to ask. As far as he is concerned, they need to remain as far apart as possible.

"What's your name Marine?"

Mark tries to keep himself from cursing out loud as he tries to remain civil. He keeps his gaze locked in front and trying not to look the Trooper in his visor.

"Corporal Mark Straka, second mortar squad, second platoon Delta Company sir," answers the Marine.

The Trooper nods along, "I was with 1st Recon Division, 271st Shock Troopers…or what's left of it."

Mark glance at Kelp out of the corner of his eye and sees that he is staring into the forest, chin propped on a fist as if he is in deep thought.

"We were tasked with scouting the terrain when our post was obliterated," he continues, "we moved through the night until we made it to yours and...well here we are," he finishes and falls into silence, neither Marine saying anything.

He then looks at Mark's bundle, "so you're the infamous alien babysitter huh?"

Mark shrugs, "Yes sir, we handle little tykes' twenty-four/seven, thirty units an hour."

"Thirty units an hour?" Kelp asks in a disinterested voice, "that's outrageous."

"Which is why we are still in shock somebody actually requiring our service," Mark says, hoping on making the Trooper laugh but only received a snort.

Kelp then turns his full gaze on Bree who is too busy squealing her protest as the Warthog makes another jump across a ravine.

"Mind me asking what in the world you're thinking of taking that into the FOB?" Mark was anticipating the question, but it still stung.

Why is he annoyed that he has to reteach morality to his fellow man? He knows what's everyone is going through, the fear, the hatred and the urge to survive. He feels it too, but no matter how much he wants to, he knows there is no way he is going to ever get rid of the little bundle he is cradling in his arms.

"Because every time I look at her I see a child and not a monster," Mark says truthfully, "I can't help but think if we ever live through this, then we can look back on this moment and remember that out of the blood and flames we can find something we are proud of."

"You're not proud of serving and protecting your people?" Kelp questions.

"I'm proud of that," Mark says defensively, "but wouldn't our people condemn us if we deliberately hurt a baby?"

"A baby monster," retorts Kelp.

"Depends on whose point of view," Mark counters.

Kelp just shakes his head, "That cuddly pet you're holding is dead you know," he looks up at Mark, "as soon as we get to the FOB, everyone will be more than willing to kill it; child or no child."

Mark wanted to argue but couldn't. How could they stand up against a whole military Division? The answer; they can't, no matter how much he wished they could.

Mark turns away from the Trooper and says, "Shut up."

Kelp merely shrugs before turning away as well.

They continue along their way, Mark no longer speaking to Kelp, an occasional roar of an engine, a loud curse from a Marine with an aching rear, Hirako arguing with Freddie and little Bree still watching the world speed by at an unbelievable speed. For her the world is still new and there isn't a care in the world. For reasons unknown to him, Mark felt like he is waiting for an inevitable accident to take place.

He doesn't voice his worries or concern as he hugs Bree closer to him, trying to enjoy this moment; no longer concerned that he is holding an alien, but something that he feels is special to him now. Somebody who he knows has already changed his very world.

* * *

**Many thanks and congratulations to "Solid G3 Legend" for finishing college and who is a fan of this story, I hope you enjoyed this. Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoyed. **


	8. A Close Call

**First off, I am so sorry this hasn't been updated as much, full explanation is at the end and you might want to read it to know about future updates as well.**

* * *

**A Close Call**

Va'lorn hits the ground with an audible thud and gags as the hand around his throat tightens.

"I'll…take that as…a no," he gasps as he looks up into Bree's fiery eyes.

The female only growls in answer before releasing her hold on her "guardian" and stalks out of the room.

The male lies on the floor, panting vigorously while silently collecting his pride before staggering onto his feet and hurries after the female.

"Bree please," he calls after her as she storms into the kitchen, "Keep Lord Fa'sai is quite insistent, he wants you to go."

Bree turns and gives him a loathing look which causes him to pause. He hates to admit it, but he is afraid. Not of the woman directly, but more of him fearing what she knows, what she is capable of. She threw him to the floor earlier with complete ease when he first brought up the issue. What will she do now as he continues to prod her?

He almost missed seeing her hands as they spoke for her.

_'I don't want to go_,' for some reason he has a feeling if she could speak she would be whining when she signed this.

She then turns around and heads to the basin she keeps in the corner that is filled with dirty dishes. She picks up a pot and started scrubbing it furiously. Va'lorn watches, waiting for her to lose some of her scorn before trying again.

"But you have to," the male states, "as a personal helper to the Keep Lord, you are required to accompany him to affairs like this, not just to honor the Kaidon, but also the people of the fief as well."

She growls again, but he notices how lowly it sounded. Was he gaining ground? Is she more concerned about the common people then their leader?

He pushes that aside, "It's a great honor Bree."

She doesn't even look at him as she uses only one hand to signal to him while her focus is on the task before her, _'A great honor to be a helper_?'

"Yes," Va'lorn says nearly in exasperation, "there are many Sangheilis who would like to have that title."

_'Would you_?' is her next question.

Va'lorn stays silent, how can he answer when he knows the truth will just validate her belief.

_'Point taken_,' was all that Bree signs before scrubbing at a stain on her plate.

Va'lorn resists the urge to snarl as he approaches consciously from behind, "Bree, think about this," he will try and breach this problem from another angle, "it is a great opportunity most would accept without hesitation."

Bree snorts before turns to Va'lorn and uses both her hands. _'Do you have any idea how many units I have to waste just to groom? Then spending what feels like pointless cycles on end speaking meaningless conversation with arrogant aristocrats while trying to resist the urge to murder the politicians that will constantly be hounding me so that I can support whatever it is they are arguing about these days_?' She fixes him with her glowing eyes, she didn't need to sign to him what she is trying to say to him this time before she turns back to her work.

Va'lorn could only stare at her for a while as he thinks of her words. All his life he was told that attending a formal event, as the Keep Lord's personal guest no less, was a previlage that only the greatest of warriors were graced with. He thought Bree was insane for wanting to throw away the opportunity.

But he had never really considered the position she was in. She has become such a sensation amongst her people that nearly all of Sanghelios has at least heard of her name. It would only make sense for the most ambitious people on the planet would seek her company, not just to improve their statues but also to help with getting their own personal gain; to use Bree as their personal tool.

Another thing was that Bree's personality plainly states that she isn't suited for this kind of atmosphere. The fact that she rejects the idealism of the female position of a household and is showing complete disregard for tradition clearly states that she is different. And from what he had seen at the market a few days before, he had no trouble believing that Bree is capable of killing.

Deep down he feels a sort of kinship towards the female. She doesn't treat him like a warrior, instead she treats him like…something else. She respects him, not enough to be in awe of him every time he walks in a room as he always dreamed of while in his youth, but with the decent amount to let him know she acknowledges him. She cooks all of her meals not just for herself, but also for him as well, making him feel mildly embarrass but she just waves all of this away with that weird gesture as she reassures him it is no trouble at all. The fact that she isn't easy to agitate or to annoy is another thing, most people of her importance would be insulted if they don't get their way, but Bree seems to embrace all challenges.

In short, she is unlike any female he has ever met before and he has the distinct feeling that she cares for him. Not as a lover maybe, but as a likable companion. He had a number of comrades from the days in the Keep, but none of them have ever affected his life like her, or should he say completely flip it upside down? He has become more considerate to the world around him along as those who live within it, things that would never have happen if it wasn't for her. He wonders if she is aware of the subtle changes that is coursing through him, either way, he would probably never say this to her, but he has begun to see her as a friend.

He would respect her wishes any other time, but here however he is facing a dilemma. The festival of the Fourth Lunar Solstice is approaching which is the celebration of the day that Sanghelios has broken away from the Covenant and the people left to forge their own fates. Originally though this holiday was the humans idea and it didn't really make much sense to Va'lorn why it's set on the Solstice when they seceded from their former allies a few cycles prior to that day. Ever since they have left the Covenant they have been struggling without the Covenant's help so few people saw any reason to celebrate this occasion. However, the Arbiter felt that this will give people a reason to revel in their past achievements and to be happy even. The only ones who are happy are the leaders of Sanghelios who gather to show off their wealth, glory and honor, which, unfortunately, Bree is considered.

Va'lorn didn't want to continue pressing her, but the Keep Lord had personally contacted him, which nearly scared him half to death. He was ordered to bring Bree to the celebrations since she wasn't there for the last few festivals.

"I'm sure there are still some things to be happy about though," he says cautiously, "I hear the food would be fine."

She doesn't grace him with an answer, did she not have an answer or is she simply not speaking to him? How can she be so kind and wise yet childish most of the time?

Finally he sighs as he takes his life into his hands as he approaches her and stand to the side of the basin. She is deliberately ignoring him as she observes a utensil in her hand.

"Bree, you have to go," Va'lorn insists, "you missed it twice now."

She flicks some water at him, causing him to flinch and nearly missing her response.

_'I wasn't feeling well_,' she signs.

"On the same day, at the same unit, twice in a row?" demands Va'lorn in a disbelieving voice, "and no doubt again when the festival is upon us?"

_'It's a funny world isn't it_?'

Va'lorn hardly sees anything humorous in all of this. He was about to comment on that, but decides against it. She was probably being…sarcastic as she calls it. She seems to act this way as a sort of defense whenever she is angry. Almost as if her being respectful is a sort of performance that fades away should her composure crack like in this instance.

He suddenly wonders if this is how Bree usually responds to people, is this what she is truly like? He instantly rebuffs that thought, even for someone as talented as her, he cannot see how it is possible for someone to remain in character if this was a ruse.

Said female then turns to him with crossed arms and a scowl evident on her face. She didn't need to sign to him that she isn't budging from her position on the matter. Va'lorn for his part isn't sure on what it is he is supposed to do now. Winning arguments haven't always been his strong point and he doesn't like where this is all potentially heading; with Bree pinning him to the floor again.

With the threat recognize, he tries to subtly approach the subject once more.

"Bree, please," he pleads, "if not go for your own pleasures, go for our people," he gestures to a nearby widow and towards the small village they had gotten their supplies, "let them see that they have something to be proud of."

The female glares at him, but otherwise makes no responses.

Va'lorn finally sighs as he rubs his eyes, "I do not wish to fight," he looks up at her, "but we are in a perilous situation here, I for one do not wish to evoke the Keep Lord's wraith."

Bree snorts and moves her hands, _'They wouldn't harm me, they need me,' the amusement disappears from her face, 'I do not see why he wants me to go. I already helped stabilized the fief and his precious castle, can't they leave me alone_?'

Va'lorn slowly shakes his head, "I am sorry Bree, but unless we wish for trouble to befall us, we must do as the Keep Lord says, he may not harm you, but he is the one who is in command of keeping you safe from Separatist forces."

He pauses at this as a new idea goes through his head. If the Keep Lord recalls him, will he still be willing to fight for Bree? He glances up at her and sees her readied battle stance, her harden eyes and quirking mandibles. Yet what he remembers is the kind and considerate female behind that look, the one who had come to seen a friend.

Yes, he will still fight for her.

Regardless of that fact though, the mere idea of not only having to worry about the rebels but also their own Keep forces is a prospect he doesn't like entertaining.

Bree however further unnerves him as she smiles in an all too sweet manner before she gives her answer.

'_This won't be my first time being in a dangerous situation_.'

* * *

Mark stares into the coals of the fire for a while longer as he finishes drinking his coffee. Or what could pass for coffee. As far as he was concerned this was dirt mixed with water, but at least it covers the tasteless flavor of the liquid.

"Smoking lamps out!" a voice calls out.

Without a second thought, Mark spills the contents of his cup onto the dying fire until there is nothing left but faintly glowing embers.

'Like we have any cigarettes to smoke,' Mark thinks to himself. Since they have no idea when they will make contact with the fleet again the Marines are trying to ration everything, including their valuable cigarettes. Last he heard, the favorite smoke of the corps, Sweet Williams, is practically seen as solid gold. He isn't much of a smoker himself, but Mark would usually take a long drag after a long day…which is more often than his mother probably would have approved of.

Wiping these thoughts from his mind, he stands up from his squatting position and surveys their small encampment.

True to Kelp's earlier prediction, they didn't even make it halfway to the FOB before needing to stop when it got dark. They are trying to remain discreet, so blundering through the jungle with their headlights on was instantly seen as a bad idea. In an attempt to double security, they have spread themselves out within a cluster of trees. Broken up into their squads the Marines tries to keep a distance from one another in an attempt to not to be grouped together. It'd be a sorry shame if an entire platoon was decimated by a single plasma mortar simply because the Marines were too close to one another.

Mark's squad has been placed towards the center of the small encampment, close to where Command had set up. They dug themselves another foxhole and erected their mortar tube per Captain's orders. If they were to be attacked, Tony wanted to be ready for a fight.

In an attempt to further camouflage themselves, the Marines had covered their foxholes with giant leaves and in some cases tree logs. They provide good cover, but they're in a bad spot if truth is to be told. Deep in the woods with no clear way out, no back up, and no support, if they're not careful they could be slaughtered after a single assault.

Mark has been sitting outside his hole while being on watch, but now as the night is setting in, he stomps out the fire he had previously made and scatters the ash, double checking to make sure the flames have truly died.

He then turns towards a big cluster of leaves that is being used to hide second mortar squad's location. He lifts one of the large leaves then slid inside.

"Ow!" cries Freddie as Mark partially lands on him, "watch it!"

"Well hi to you too," Mark says as he sits up, grabs the leaf he had removed earlier and covers the hole again. Outside its getting dark, but now beneath the vegetation it was pitch black.

"How's Bree?" Mark asks to no one in particular.

"She fell asleep three hours ago," Hirako says before sighing, "guess this means she's going to be awake half the night."

"So wake her up," came Freddie's response.

Not long after that there was a thump followed by a yelp of pain.

"Babies needs their sleep genius," Hirako hisses, "come any closer to her and next time I'll clumber you with my shovel."

"Fine, fine," Freddie says, "I'll sit by Mark then."

There is the sound of scuffling before a whoosh is heard accompanied by the noise of a miniature avalanche. Freddie curses before there is a thud, this time at the very bottom of the hole followed by the clinking of metal on metal. The mortar rounds.

Mark and Hirako gasps at the same time before holding their breaths. However after a few seconds passed there was no detonation, just Freddie muttering darkly to himself.

"This is ridiculous," Freddie says before a beam of light came on. Freddie had activated his flashlight that is attach to his helmet, illuminating the interior of their hole.

It isn't much and it even made their usual pitch tent look luxurious. Mark is on one side of the hole while Hirako is seated across from him, Bree is sleeping within a tiny alcove that was dug for her. Freddie has indeed crash landed on the bottom of their hole, landing close to the mortar tube. The explosive rounds themselves were placed firmly in the dirt, within easy arm's reach in case the team needed to fire quick shots at enemy combatants.

"Freddie," Hirako murmurs darkly, "If I had a credit for every time you nearly blown us up, I would have enough money to buy a big cage and lock you in it."

"And not use any of it for a trip to a hair salon?" Freddie sardonically questions as he makes himself comfortable close to Mark.

"No. Way." Hirako answers firmly, "Either I use it to buy a cage to keep us safe from you klutz or I'd use it to buy as many Sweet Williams as I could carry."

Freddie grunts before crossing his arms, "Yeah? Well I would use all those creds to buy me a one way ticket to a resort."

"Dude," Mark injects, "The Marines shipped you here, a five star resort planet, for free."

"…Well then," Freddie finally says, "guess that would be a waste of such fine money."

Mark could only shake his head at his friend.

"Yeah well what would you do Straka?" demands Freddie, "finally start your dream business? Mother Straka's foster home for estranged aliens?"

"That's an idea," Mark says with a nod of his head, "and I'll use whatever is left to bribe you into taking a family photo with Bree so that you two will become the face of the new, family friendly, alien day care corporation."

"There's not enough money in the universe dude," Freddie answers, "though I would like to see a picture of Bree with Santa Clause for that matter."

"Santa Clause?" Hirako asks.

"An old Earth myth," Mark explains as he turns towards her, "my grandma used to say if I was good, he would bring gifts for me on Christmas day."

"And did he?" Hirako asks sarcastically.

"It's kind of hard to believe that an old man riding a sleigh would somehow fly across the known galaxy just to give a little boy a gift," however Mark couldn't stop a smirk from appearing, "it still didn't make me less excited though."

"An old man in a sleigh huh?" Hirako says slowly, "On Jericho VII we just sang Christmas carols, like the original ones, Hark the Harold Angel Sings, Silent Night-"

"Kumbayah?" Freddie asks.

The other two Marines gave the third an incredulous look, but Freddie actually looked curious.

"I'm… not sure that's a Christmas song," Mark says slowly.

Freddie shrugs, "Could be."

Hirako shakes her head, refusing to think with Freddie's logic, "If Santa Clause is a myth, how can you take a picture with him?"

"My uncle is from earth," Freddie explains, "when he was a kid he said a bunch of old guys would dress up in red suits and just sat in chairs and children would come running and take a photo with them."

Hirako stares at Freddie before hesitantly looking to Mark.

Mark shrugs in turn before saying, "My grandma told me the same thing."

Hirako sighs, "And here I thought it was another one of Freddie's delusions."

The Marine in turn humphs at this as he turns away from the woman in mock scorn.

The action brought a tired smile to Mark's lips before he finds himself frowning at a new thought.

"When is Christmas?" he asks.

All becomes quite as the others looks at Mark as if he had just said something crazy before looking at each other and blink in bewilderment. Finally Hirako takes out her little data pad from her back pocket and flips through it. Though it holds old coordinates and manifest details the tiny device still have dates on each of its pages. After flicking through it, she comes to a stop and she stares at the handheld device for a moment.

"Huh," she says thoughtfully before looking up, "it's today."

Mark feels his brows rising up, "Really?"

Hirako nods in confirmation before leaning back and gazing thoughtfully into space, something the other two Marines soon began doing as well.

Christmas…this is a big event that Mark and his family would use to celebrate. Not everyone celebrated it in his little town, but they did. They got each other's gifts, they had a small feast which included an extra portion of meat or fruits. And on the eve of Christmas his mother would read from the Bible about the birth of Christ and how the holiday wasn't made only to celebrate the birth of salvation, but also to celebrate the season of hope and forgiveness.

Mark would be ecstatic about the holiday when he was younger. What kid wouldn't love getting presents or having a good meal? Now though, now that he's an adult…he can't really remember the gifs he had received. The toys he received kind of blended in with one another, but other things he can remember.

Grandma making him mittens using his favorite colors and it wasn't as cliché as most would believe. His grandmother hated knitting but when she had no money to use she would make her own gifs for Mark. Some would be too large or too small, but it truly was the thought that count, especially when her arthritis started causing her trouble not long before Mark entered his teen years.

His dad slowly got him more and more matured materials. A knife one year. A small bag with duct tape, a wrench and a hammer and nails another year. Once Mark received a watch, the most expensive gift he could have received. He had moments when he thought his dad was disappointment in him, but during times like these he had a small measure of hope that his dad didn't.

His mother would usually pick out more sentimental gifts. She's the one who would get him a toy, not the latest brand of the market, but little age old wind up classics. Sometimes he would get a little car, or a modeled rocket. Later he would be receiving small novels about adventure and science fiction, his favorite genres.

Yet no matter how great those gifts were, nothing beat the time he had being with his family. They were almost always together, working in the fields together, always talking with one another. Yet Christmas is one of the few holidays where they had a day off and they spent it together, not sweating and stinking like they usually do. A small but deeply renewed improvement compared to working till the sun goes down. He especially misses hearing his mother's voice, reading the story of a miracle being born in a place called Bethlehem.

He can barely remember the tale, but for some reason his mother's voice never fades.

Slowly he looks towards the guest in their squad. Little Bree, sleeping soundly, probably unaware that they are living in a life or death situation. Does she remember anything from her family? Her mother? Or father even? A new and kind of startling thought took over. Will she remember him?

Will she remember her time with the Marines? Aliens? Will she be taken away from them and she only have vague memories of who they were and may even end up wondering whatever happened to them? Would she be grateful for all that they have done or would her alien side inform her to hate and despise them?

Before Mark began to think harder on the subject, a new sound is heard that he couldn't register for a moment. It isn't mechanical, it is a hum, and it's a tune that sounds vary familiar to him. He looks for the source and soon finds it, or rather him.

Freddie is tilting his head back and forth as he continues to hum, looking almost oblivious to the world around him, but he soon stops once he realizes that Mark is watching him and they look into each other's eyes.

Finally Mark finds his voice.

"Are you humming 'Frosty the Snowman'?"

Freddie is still for a moment before nodding his head, "Yeah…its catchy."

They continue to stare at one another before Freddie shrugs and says, "It's a good a song."

Mark didn't know what to say as he decides to simply lean back and let it go. This universe had one too many strange things as is. No need for finding anything else weirder.

Then again what could be weirder than a bunch of Marines taking care of an alien infant?

Not another minute passes before Freddie started humming again, and this time Mark didn't say anything. It was a far cry from his mother's reading voice, but it does the trick. He soon feels drowsy and is having a hard time keeping his eyes open. It isn't long before he slowly fades away from the world, listening to how a magic hat brought a snowman to life which is being hummed by a shotgun wielding Marine slash part time alien babysitter. Peace in the universe.

* * *

Mark jerks awake as he grips his pistol in the holster when he felt his foot being kicked. However something is shoved into his arms and out of reflex he releases the pistol and grips whatever is npw in his hands.

"It's your turn," a groggy Hirako says before tossing him small pieces of ripped cloths.

"And for the love of humanity," mummers a sleepy Freddie, "change her outside, I swear if you do it in here I'm going to dig my own separate hole."

Mark sighs as he looks down at Bree who is looking at him with bright eyes, but her squirming and the smell that is coming off from her indicates her discomfort.

"We seriously need to get you potty trained," the Marine says as he removes a leaf above him and shimmy outside.

The humidity is thick again, but not as bad as it would have been around noon time. The jungle is quiet and empty at the moment with a gentle mist shifting and taking shape, alarming the man whenever he thought he saw a large shape.

However he feels the bundle in his arms jerk again followed by a squeak in which he sighs again.

He looks down into the ember eyes staring up at him before shrugging at her, "Well let's get this over with." He then kneels down and lay Bree on a clear spot of the ground.

* * *

"Is that better?" Mark asks Bree as he places the dirty contents in an empty can of ammunition as he smirks, "guess I need to remember to warn Freddie about that can of ammo…or not."

Bree waves a clawed hand at him and squeaks.

This coaxes a smile from Mark as he says, "Yeah, I probably won't say a wo-"

The next thing he knows a great weight slams against his side and he lands on the ground hard.

He gasps in pain and surprise but before he could cry out a warning a cold armored hand covers his mouth.

For a moment he thought it was an invisible Elite ambushing him when he looks up and sees a more familiar sight. A Drop Shock Trooper is sitting on top of him, one with familiar markings on the helmet.

Mark glares at the Marine as he shakes off the hand and says, "Kelp? What are you-?"

The hand covers his mouth again before he could say anything else. Mark tries to move out of the lock, but he freezes when Kelp holds up a Magnum pistol.

A cold chill runs down his spine as he stares at the ODST. What is going on? Is he trying to kill Bree? What is happening?

He wanted to call out for help, at the very least to get Hirako or Freddie's help when he hears it. A high pitch screech fills the air, one that definitely isn't local to the planet, but it's a sound that he never forgets.

It's a hunting cry of a Jackal.

The thought of a lethal Trooper wanting to kill him was terrifying. Hearing an alien on the hunt with a thirst for murder is far beyond the fear factor.

Kelp points the gun at Mark before gesturing back to Mark's foxhole. The Marine nods in immediate understanding, but pauses before pointing behind Kelp at the spot where Bree is.

Kelp is wearing his helmet, but Mark could have sworn he heard the man release a huff of agitation when he looks back and saw the baby alien. Nevertheless the Trooper quickly got off of the marine and scurries towards Bree. Normally Mark wouldn't trust anyone with the baby, but here he accepted exceptions.

He flips onto his belly and starts crawling towards the hole but stops. He curses himself as he turns his head and finds that the can of munition which he had used earlier as a trash is close to him. Having a metal box that was clearly human in the middle of nowhere with fresh feces in it will no doubt look suspicious.

Steeling himself, or rather steeling his nose, Mark grabs the can, removes the leaf over his hole again and drops the canister inside.

There is a thump and Freddie's loud voice.

"Aw gross!" he all but yells, "what in the name of-"

He didn't finish as Mark all but dives inside and crashes into the speaking Marine. They rolled towards the bottom and hit their backs hard against the mortar tube and cause the mortars to cling once again. There is that second of silence to see if there would be an explosion but when that moment is gone Mark feels a hand roughly grabs his shoulder and shakes him.

"What has gotten into you Straka?" Freddie practically snarls.

"Hey wait," Hirako says as her silhouette sits up straight as she stares at the two men at the bottom of the hole, "where's Bree?"

Did Hirako actually sounded worry right then?

"Here," Kelp drops in next but slides to a stop along the side of the pit before he recovers the entrance above him.

"Kelp?" Freddie asks, all pat transgression between him and Mark forgotten, "what are you-"

"Shut up," Kelp hisses as he holds Bree in the crook of his arm while his other hand is holding the Magnum, "Covenant scouts are coming in close to the area."

Hirako almost jumps to her feet upon hearing this, instantly awake as she asks, "what?"

"Shush," Kelp insists as he holds out the baby towards the woman who takes Bree without a word.

The ODST then holds a finger to the side of his head and said, "CP, we have contacts inbound."

"How many?" came a near automated voice.

"Scouts," Kelp answers, "less than ten but I'm certain there is more waiting not far from here."

"Roger your last," the next thing Mark knew his own comm piece came active as CP speaks to all the Marines, "All personnel, stay low and stay hidden. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary, CP out."

"Well that's helpful," Freddie mutters as he picks up his shotgun and pumps a shell in preparation to fire.

"Stay sharp," Kelp orders in a whisper as he holster the pistol and takes an Assault Rifle off of his back and looks it over.

"Did you see them?" Hirako asks as she holds Bree close to her chest.

Kelp shakes his head, "I heard them, I thought they were going to pass us, but they're heading this way."

"Can't we take them out?" Mark asks as he holds Hirako's SMG.

"Not without giving away our positions," kelp explains, "if we do then then it will be a massacre."

"How far away are they?" Hirako asks.

"Just a few meters away," Kelp hisses out, "any other questions?"

"Can we throw the crap out?" Freddie asks.

"What?" Kelp turns to Freddie but flinches backwards when Freddie practically thrusts the ammunition can in his face as it slowly begins to smell.

"I swear this thing could be considered a dirty bomb," Freddie all but declares.

Kelp shoves Freddie away and snarls in a low voice, "Keep it down! Covies could be right on top of us."

As if to confirm this there is another howl, closer than before.

Nobody says a word but they are all thinking the same thing; the scouts are approaching the perimeter.

The Marines clutch their weapons tightly, all with the muzzles pointing towards the opening of the hole. Unconsciously Mark and Freddie shifts their seated positions until they are just a few inches away from Hirako, Mark on her right and Freddie on her left. They are silent, waiting for something, anything, to move. They can just make out the dark sky past the few cracks in the leaves above them, but aside from that they are completely blind.

All is still, but it isn't long before their radios began speaking again.

"They're coming," an unknown person says, "I can hear them."

"I see them," another speaks, "they're in the trees," the Marine curses to herself, "its Jackals."

Mark can feel a cold sweat starting to break out. Jackals have an acute sense of smell, they need to be incredibly lucky to have such deadly predators miss them. They could hop over them without even noticing the Marine's cover, but if they smell them then it's all over.

"Stand down," CP calls out over the comms, "repeat, all Marines hold fire and maintain positions."

"Like we have any other place to run to," Kelp mutters before it became quite again. No one feels like commenting about that.

The seconds slowly drags by, time seeming to have lost its purpose as they all wait, and wait to see what will happen. Will they be discovered? Will they have to fight? Will they be killed?

Mark's heart thunders in himself and he feels perspiration starting to make its way down his back. The heat was no longer his concern, not when there are killer aliens above them.

However he feels himself release an inaudible gasp when there was a sudden thud and the leaves above them shook. Something has dropped onto the ground and could quite literally be on top of them.

The scares he has been relieving in the past few moments intensifies, especially when he hears a familiar and dreaded sound.

Bree had released a small squeak.

There is the sound of whistling leaves as the atmosphere fell below freezing point. Hirako quickly covers Bree's mouth, but it is too late.

They hear the soft sounds of footfalls, heading their way, accompanied by high pitch ticking…like the Jackal is clicking its teeth together. Ever so slowly, the sound only got closer and closer.

Freddie makes to move down to prepare the mortar round before Hirako makes a cut gesture with her free hand. A silent order for Freddie to stop. Unless he is planning on blowing all of them up, then he better not move another inch.

Snorting can be heard outside, ragged huffs and the quirky like noises the Jackals makes. What are they to do? Not fire until it's directly in front of them or until it steps on the leaves and fall into the hole? Either way there is no point in denying it, there's no way for all of them getting out alive.

Kelp waves a hand and got their attention. He holds up his rifle and points in the direction of the Jackal. The ODST wants them to go down swinging. Mark would usually disagree with this, but not now. They have no choice and as he sits there he feels his fear being laced with another emotion, anger. These creatures attacked them, burned their homes and have are now set on exterminating the whole human race.

He feels rage directed towards these aliens for trying to kill his friends Hirako and Freddie. And…Bree too. She may be an alien as well, but the thought of her being hurt, killed, was one that made his fist clench and set his own determination. If he's going down, he's taking some of the bird freaks with him.

He raises his submachine gun and in the corner of his eyes he sees Freddie doing so as well. Hirako…he couldn't quite believe it. She has taken out her Magnum, but she has moved Bree until she is shielding the infant with her body. Is she really willing to give her life to protect Bree?

Kelp holds up five fingers before gradually putting down one finger. This is it, he has initiated a countdown.

The second finger is gone.

Mark loosens his muscles and places his own finger against the gun's trigger.

Another finger is put down.

This is it, for a moment he isn't as nervous. He just…stopped caring.

Fourth finger is down.

This is it, he wonders if he will see his family again, his friends…will Bree be there with them too?

The last finger is going down, the joint is about down, right when he is sure the Jackal is close to them when there was a rapid flutter.

Mark feels himself jump and nearly fires off a burst, but Kelp suddenly holds up his hand once more. A white streak passes over through the sky and Mark is sure he could see the flurry of feathers. Was that a bird?

The Jackal seems to have freeze as well since all other motions have stopped. The whole galaxy seems to be holding its breath, everyone waiting in pure anxiety to see what will happen next.

Finally there is a huff and the footsteps begin again, only this time they are leading away from them. A few moments later the steps ceases.

Nobody says a word for another minute. Bree has begun to squirm and whine, forcing Hirako to strengthen her hold on the baby.

Mark finds himself counting the seconds, never once releasing his hold on his gun. Even when he reached twelve thousandth number his grip doesn't lighten.

"All units," everyone tense once again once hearing the radio comes online, "area is clear, say again, area is clear."

The Marines releases a sigh or in Bree's case, a rather loud cry. Hirako gently starts bouncing Bree on her knee, too exhausted to do much else.

Mark puts the gun down and rubs his brow and breathes deeply. His heart is beating rapidly, his hands are shaky and he is pretty sure his eye is twitching. Between this and being a farmer, he probably would have slapped his younger self for even thinking about joining the militia.

Freddie suddenly reaches over towards Hirako and rubs Bree's head, not too much to agitate her, but enough to cause the baby to lean into the caress.

"Congratulation Bree," Hirako, Mark and even kelp's helmet clad head looks up at Freddie as he says this. Upon seeing their bewildered faces, he shrugs and says, "She just witnessed her first Christmas miracle."

* * *

**AN: I truly am sorry for not updating as much, I was trying a new method in focusing on only one story at a time since I am busy in college (a big opportunity for me since not a lot of people in my community gets to go and I worked really hard to get here) Now though I will try and update this story again, but it may take either a month or more than a month to get it ready. I hope you understand and enjoyed the chapter.**

**Happy holidays **

**Yá'át'ééh Késhmish (Navajo for Merry Christmas)**

**John 3:16-17 **


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